The Units

by Jamie Mackay

Chapter 5

  As Tatum left the hospital for the day, back through the main door of Unit One, she needed to catch her breath as she stepped out into the intense Saskatchewan heat. Although WMI had few windows and tended to feel somewhat like a basement throughout the entire complex, it was also well air-conditioned and provided ample solace from the harsh exterior temperatures.

  She made her way back down the splendid marble staircase and found herself once again enjoying the hollow clicking noise of her trendy platform pumps hitting the stately marble staircase.

  Sort of like putting a metronome in with a puppy to help it sleep, she thought.

  Already by the time she had reached the bottom of the staircase, the heat was overwhelming and she found herself peeling off the blazer that so nicely finished her tailored three-piece suit. Her heels had seemed much less high when she had walked the same walk early this morning. She wished she could also peel off her nylons and her heels so that she could walk across the expansive grounds in bare feet, but she laughingly thought to herself that she had better stay dressed, for fear that she may be mistaken as a patient.

  Although her place of work was only a few blocks from her apartment, by the time Tatum made it home her head was wet with perspiration, as was the rest of her body. She'd had a full and tiring day, and found herself thankful that when she arrived at the apartments, she saw no one in sight. She certainly did not feel like making small talk at the moment.

  Feeling as if she was about to wither from the heat, Tatum made her way into the front lobby of the apartment building and felt immediate relief when she heard the familiar buzzing noise of the air conditioner. Feeling slightly less wilted in the cooler air, she made her way through what was becoming the familiar route to her apartment, opened her door and flopped down in the only chair not still covered with unpacked clothes or renovation materials.

  .

  Having regained some of her energy after a short, air-conditioned rest, Tatum slowly got up, undressed from her work attire and stepped into a quick, cool shower. She dressed in the same cut-off shorts she had worn the day before, but this time she paired them with a small halter top, the type that tied in the middle and showed her belly button.

  She flicked on her cell phone for the first time that day and heard several ringing noises in a row as the messages that had been sent during the day were received. On her blackberry Tatum saw several messages from her mother, one from Sarah, and a couple of routine University of Illinois listserv type spam. None of the previous messages surprised her. Then, Tatum did a double-take. As her messages loaded, the name Niko Rodrigues slowly showed in her unread messages mailbox.

  Niko had been Tatum's long-term boyfriend in Chicago. They had met during their undergrad training, she in the psychology program, and he in engineering. In engineering a Master's degree was considered a terminal degree. As a result, Niko had long since finished his education and had developed a successful career as a junior engineer working for a large engineering firm in Chicago. Tatum and Niko had shared many happy years together, and had even spoken of marriage. But upon her acceptance as a Fulbright scholar, Tatum had made the very difficult decision to break it off with Niko and experience some life unlike anything she'd ever known.

  Niko was, in Tatum's opinion, an extremely handsome Latino man, with dark, curly hair, dark eyes and a chiseled chin. Although not overly tall at not quite 6 feet, Niko took pride in his physique and his dedication to exercise was obvious in the way that his expensive tailored clothing hung on him perfectly, accentuating his large strong chest and narrow waist. In his early twenties Niko had been a man with many dreams; most of them had long since been fulfilled. But, he was also the type that when one goal was reached, three more were created.

  Tatum felt that she had certainly been a priority in his life, but as was typical in Chicago society, she often felt that she took a backseat to his long hours and drive for yet even more success and even more money.

  .

  Tatum sat her phone down. Once she'd had something to eat, she would answer her mother and her sister, and even perhaps glance at the news sent from the University. She knew she wouldn't however, read or answer the text from Niko. She was still unsure of her feelings about their possible future together, but remained confident that she had made the right decision to make her move with no strings attached.

  .

  Knowing she would not answer any of the messages at the moment, Tatum went to her fridge hoping to find something for dinner. Seeing nothing of interest, and generally little of anything at all, she made her way out of her apartment and toward the downtown core where she was hoping she would find something that appealed to her. Having thought little about where she was headed, Tatum found herself walking towards the small liquor store she had made note of on her first walk through town.

  The heat was still intense and she was once again beginning to break a sweat, but in her more comfortable clothes and after a nice cool shower, the intense heat seemed less disheartening.

  "What's your pleasure?" the liquor store clerk asked Tatum.

  She must looked have looked like someone who had no idea where things were, something Tatum suspected was a bit unusual around here.

  "Do you have one called 'Two Oceans'?" Tatum asked.

  Two Oceans was a cheap, full-bodied red wine she and Niko had discovered on a trip they had taken to a rental cabin outside of Chicago. On the winding road into the cabin they had come across a small corner store and had stopped to purchase a few items they'd forgotten, including a bottle of wine. Two Oceans had been recommended by the store clerk and had remained Tatum's favorite since. She liked a dry red with lots of flavor, and Two Oceans sort of reminded her of a glass of wine that had been prepared starting with a sour bucket of pure Welch's purple grape juice.

  "You betcha. Right over here."

  Tatum grabbed a bottle of her favorite and then browsed the store for a few moments, as much to take advantage of a few minutes out of the sun as to actually consider purchasing another product.

  After deliberating long enough to be prepared to re-brave the heat, she decided to add a case of beer to her purchase pile. She wasn't really sure who she was buying it for, but she enjoyed one occasionally when it was hot and she liked to have them on hand in case anyone stopped by. She knew the likelihood of anyone actually stopping by was remote, she knew almost no-one, but it felt good just to think that she was prepared if, by chance, someone did.

  .

  Once again Tatum caught her breath as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She wondered whether her body would ever stop reacting to the extreme temperature differential. She thought it must happen eventually; she didn't notice Wainwright residents gasping every time they stepped outside.

  Tatum walked the couple of blocks to the grocery store, and then wished she'd gone to the liquor store second. Her load was heavy and her beer was getting warm. To lighten her load, she grabbed a shopping cart, for which she noticed she did not have to deposit a dollar, and unloaded her recent purchases into the pushcart.

  That's better, she thought to herself as she shook out her numb beer-carrying fingers.

  She had few ideas about what she was going to eat; she only knew one thing for sure, it would go with red wine. She smiled at the thought of organizing her entire menu around her favorite drink.

  In an effort to be responsible, she first picked up some bread, eggs, milk and cereal. She knew she would need to eat breakfast the following morning; but she wouldn't necessarily need lunch food. If today was any indication, she would likely eat at the WMI cafeteria most days. Then, after she'd made some responsible choices, she felt free to explore the less responsible side of her palate.

  First Tatum explored the cheese isle. In her opinion, cheese and red wine made a perfect pair. She chose the 'old' cheddar, the only one on the shelf. She had to admit that the cheese selection was one of the few things she had been truly disappointed with so far in Wainwright. In Chicago she coul
d visit an entire store dedicated only to cheese, and then choose the one that went perfectly with her wine choice of the day.

  Next she moved onto her choice of meat; she didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew it would be something she wouldn't have to cook.

  Lost in thought she wondered through the deli section pushing her cart of booze and cheese.

  "Ouch!" said a voice in front of her, breaking her state of meaningless contemplation.

  "Oh my goodness; I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there," Tatum explained to the stranger over whose feet she had just run.

  The stranger turned around to indicate his acceptance of her apology and Tatum saw the face of a thirty something man who was obviously a Wainwright resident. Although he wasn't wearing a tilted hat and John Deere green, Tatum recognized the look of a long-term younger generation Wainwrightion.

  Wainwrightion? Is that even a thing? She chuckled to herself.

  The man standing in front of her was tall; she guessed definitely more than six feet, maybe 6'3"ish? He looked strong, but not the type of strong you get from working out in a gym, the type of strong you get from lifting 200 pound bales for 20 years or more. His attire consisted of worn jeans with a blown out knee, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves.

  He's almost a cowboy cliché, Tatum observed silently.

  His hair was short, but his cut was similar to those worn in the mid-nineties. In her world, men wore something called a 'Caesar cut'. She had to admit she wasn't sure why it was called that, perhaps because with the blunt cut around the ears, the flat top and the wedge stuck up in front, those who wore it looked like they were in the days of Caesar Augustus? In any case, this Wainwright resident did not have his hair in any form of hair style she was used to. It was parted just to the side and was sort of feathered lightly so that it was long enough to move with the shaking of his head. She assumed that it was normally kind of a light brown colour, but having been exposed to the sun for many days, it now appeared sandy blond against his darkly tanned skin.

  "Apology accepted,” the stranger said with a small sideways grin.

  Like Tatum, he seemed a bit taken aback by the attractiveness of a face he'd never seen before. She could tell that he was trying to be polite, but at the same time give her a once over. He seemed shy and it was Tatum who took to the first attempt at conversation.

  "I'm afraid I've just gotten my license and these shopping carts can be lethal in the wrong hands," Tatum joked.

  He smiled at her comment and then answered "Well, the grocery store can be a dangerous place; ya pay your money and ya take your chances".

  Tatum continued, "My name's Tatum." She offered him her hand for shaking.

  He responded in kind with the quiet, "I'm Jake".

  "Well Jake, it was nice to meet you. I hope your foot is okay and that you survive the rest of your dangerous journey through the grocery store."

  "Nice to meet you too, miss," Jake mumbled as he backed away from Tatum and worked his way back out of the deli section.

  .

  With a little bit of newfound skip in her step, Tatum continued in her search for all things that could be paired with red wine. She found some prosciutto in the deli section and then complemented her meat selection with crackers, olives, smoked oysters, and a jar of antipasto.

  Knowing a dinner of appetizers would likely leave for wanting, she impulsively grabbed a box of ice cream cones and some frozen triple chocolate brownie.

  .

  Now fully loaded with liquor and grocery store bounty, Tatum stood dumbfounded in the parking lot. Used to shopping with Niko and having a trunk to carry her items, she was unsure of how to negotiate carrying all of her newly purchased rations. She stood contemplating removing her items from her shopping cart.

  She must have looked truly overwhelmed in her dilemma because before she picked up a single item for her planned balancing act, the pimply faced teenager responsible for collecting shopping carts in the parking lot came to her rescue.

  "Are you walking ma'am?" He asked politely.

  Tatum thought to herself how it was funny that she was still a 'miss' to Jake, but to this pimply 16 year old, she was definitely a 'ma'am'.

  "Yes, unfortunately, I didn't plan this very well, did I?" Tatum responded.

  "Oh, that's all right, happens all the time. Just take the cart home and return it tomorrow."

  Tatum was flabbergasted. "What do you mean, take the cart home?" she asked incredulously.

  "Just wheel it down the street to your house," the young boy clarified with just a hint of contempt.

  Tatum guessed that he figured he'd been pretty clear the first time he told her to take it.

  .

  So, warm beer at the bottom and quickly softening cheese on the top, Tatum slowly made her way through the streets of Wainwright, pushing her shopping cart.

  Oh, if my friends could see me now, she thought to herself as she gave it a double strength push to make sure it made it up the lip on the next curb.