Authors: Andrew Neiderman
expected it. The man was as strong as a horse, but as old Doc Beezly
says, 'tension wears on you in places you can't see, can't even feel,"
Young added, raising his eyebrows. Good thing to keep in mind."$
Tension, Lee thought, how do you hold it at bay?
Daydreaming? Jessie asked.
She felt her way through the kitchen door and stopped by the kitchenette
set, her hands on the back of a chair. She sensed where he was standing
and turned in his direction. With her ebony hair tied up with a
bandanna and with her dark complexion, silvery gray eyes, and gold
teardrop earrings, she looked like a fortune teller.
Jessie stood only two inches shorter than Lee, who was six feet tall.
She had long, graceful legs and a slim figure with perky breasts that
often drove him into a lustful frenzy whenever they began to make love.
He loved to trace his forefinger down the slope of her soft shoulders,
over her collarbone, and through the valley of her bosom. His roadway
to ecstasy, he called it, and three years of marriage hadn't dimmed the
passion or slowed the beat of his heart whenever she brought her lips
close to his. How did you know I was daydreaming? he asked.
Her new sensitivity to things around her constantly astounded him. The
doctors had told him her sense of smell and hearing, even her sense of
touch, would improve, grow sharper to compensate for her loss of sight,
but sometimes she seemed to possess radar.
I heard you stop unpacking. Want me to help? I could hand things to
you, couldn't I?
No, everything's just about out of the cartons, Jess.
I was just . . .
Admiring the scenery? Describe it to me, she said, working her way to
him. Is it pretty? Do you see mountains? There's not much traffic
here. I don't hear many cars go by.
It's off the main drag, just like I told you.
He looked out the window again. You could see the mountains in the
distance, and beyond the cemetery there was a lush forest filled with
pine and birch, maple and some hickory. He skipped over the graveyard
and described the rest. Sounds beautiful. We'll be happy here, Lee. I
know it. Well, she said, her right hand on his left upper arm, if you
have put everything in its place, it's time for you to show me. I want
to be just as independent in this apartment as I was in Hicksville, even
though this one is a lot larger.
Okay, he said, shaking his head and smiling. He had searched for a
ground floor apartment and had found this one in this turn of the
century, two story Victorian. He suspected it was inexpensive because
of the proximity of the graveyard, but it fit the bill. It would be
easy for Jessie to work her way around it, and that was what was most
important.
Jessie smiled, that dimple in her right cheek flashing.
There was always so much animation in her face the way she raised her
eyebrows, twitched her small upturned nose, quivered the corners of her
mouth. He doted on her features.
You're laughing at me, aren't you? she said.
How did you know'
I can feel it, she said, and he believed her.
All right. He took her hand. Let me show you around your kitchen. I
put everything left to right just the way you had it in Hicksville,
beginning with the toaster, the coffeepot, and the Mixmaster.
First cabinet, he continued, and took her through the kitchen, dish by
dish, pot by pot. When he was finished, she began on the left by
herself and reviewed it, not making a single error, and ending up
sitting at the kitchenette table. He shook his head. She was truly
amazing.
Our bed is made, she said, and I put away all my things and most of
yours. Great. He put away the remaining articles and folded the last
carton. I've got to cut up all these cartons and make them flat. Then
I have to tie the bundle up, he said. Those are the rules from the
sanitation company here. I'm surprised they didn't ask us to tie pink
ribbons around everything. Talk about your prim and proper little
communities. Jessie laughed.
Tell me about the school, Lee. You've hardly spoken about it. You're
not ashamed of it, are you? she asked perceptively. well You are,
aren't you?
It's nothing like what I had in Hicksville. They've got a gym, of
course, but no separate exercise room and very little gymnastic
equipment. No football then? Too small a school. K to twelve is just
under a thousand.
That must be nice, though. You'll get to know everyone quickly. She
smiled and then reached out for him.
Come here. I hate when you're so far away from me when I speak to you.
I can't see your face with my fingers, and I don't know how you're
reacting to what I say.
Really? I thought you could sense things a mile away, he said, and sat
beside her. She pressed the tips of her right hand over his lips and
eyes. What is it, Lee? What's wrong? Jesus.
There's something wrong, she insisted. Tell me. Is there something the
matter with the apartment? No.
What then? Come on, she coaxed.
I don't like my good luck being based on someone's bad, he confessed.
Mr. Andersen, she said, nodding.
I suspected as much. Was he married? To his job, from what I hear. He
taught here for over twenty years.
She nodded again, her face full of concern. Then her expression
changed. Someone's at the door, she declared.
Huh? The door buzzer sounded. How the hell . . .
I heard footsteps on the porch steps, she explained.
The buzzer sounded again. Lee got up slowly, still shaking his head,
and went to the door to greet Bob Baker, an English teacher he had met
briefly when he had first come for an interview. Baker was just over
six feet tall, in his late forties, with that distinguished gray tint in
his temples. He had an impish twinkle in his cerulean blue eyes. He
wore a tweed sports jacket, matching brown slacks, and a white shirt
opened at the collar. Lee thought he either had the remnants of a late
summer tan or he was a naturally dark skinned man.
Baker carried a bag that obviously contained a bottle of some alcoholic
beverage.
But Lee's gaze was quickly drawn to Baker's wife who though not quite as
tall, somehow evinced a taller appearance with her statuesque figure.
Her face was an artist's dream, sculptured features, high cheekbones,
deep set green eyes, and a straight, sensual mouth. She wore her light
brown hair brushed back and down over her shoulders. It lay softly and
had a healthy, silky sheen. Lee Overstreet? Baker said. Lee smiled.
Yes?
As faculty president, I make it my business to formally greet newcomers
and see to it that they are properly christened. He handed Lee the bag,
which Lee saw contained a bottle of champagne. And not a cheap one at
that.
Well, now, thank you. Come in, please.
Actually it's only an excuse for Bob to drink, his wife said, extending
her hand. I'm Tracy Baker. I hope this is not a bad time, although I
can't imagine when it could be a good time for you, having to move in
practically overnight.
No, no. It's Nervy of us, Bob said, stepping past him. Jessie had made
her way back and was standing in the hallway smiling. Hi, Bob said.
Hello. Jessie extended her hand and Baker moved forward quickly to
shake it.
Bob Baker. And this is my wife, Tracy, he said, turning.
But before she greeted Tracy, Jessie pulled her hand from Baker's
abruptly because it felt loathsome felt as if she had joined hands with
a rotting corpse. She pressed her palm against her bosom and covered it
with her other hand protectively.
Jess? Lee said.
She shook off the grotesque image quickly. These images, voices, when
would they stop haunting her?
I'm all right, she said quickly, and forced a smile.
It's terrible of us to barge in on you like this, Tracy said, but Bob
insisted.
No, no, it's all right, Jessie said. Really.
It's one of the few duties I have that I thoroughly enjoy, Baker
quipped. He gazed around. You haven't done too badly. I think it took
us what ten days to unpack, Trace. More like ten months.
How long have you lived in Gardner Town? Jessie asked.
A little over ten years. Teaching was going to be my temporary job,
Baker said. I had high hopes of becoming another Brando.
Oh, I'm sorry, Jessie said. I can appreciate what it means to be
frustrated.
Ah, I've adjusted, Baker said. Besides, teaching is really a
performance. Look at what we're competing with for the students'
attention these days: MTV, the Laugh Channel, and home videos. He
slapped his hands together and looked at Lee. We can just open the
bottle and pass it around, if you don't have your glasses unpacked yet.
Lee! Tracy exclaimed. He's incorrigible and I think he tipped a few at
O'Heanie's before he came home from school today.
Absolute poppycock, Baker said.
I'll get the glasses, Jessie said. Take them into the living room, Lee.
Do we need a corkscrew?
Naw, it's a twist off, Baker said. Old wine in a modern container.
Jessie smiled and then began her slow journey back to the kitchen,
feeling her way down the corridor. The Bakers stared and then turned
slowly toward Lee, who nodded. Yes, he said softly, she's blind. A car
accident a little over a year ago.
Oh, I'm sorry, Tracy said quickly. Bob, I told you it wasn't right to
intrude.
No, it's fine, Lee said. She doesn't let it prevent her from doing
much. She's already memorized her kitchen.
Come on in and sit down. I appreciate the break and chance to relax.
This is a roomy apartment, Tracy said, gazing around. I didn't know it
was available. Old man Carter, the cemetery caretaker, still lives
upstairs, doesn't he? Yes, Lee said, and then indicated they should sit
on the sofa. He sat across from them in the high backed, thick
cushioned easy chair.
I heard he's in his nineties, Tracy said, but I guess he still does his
work satisfactorily.
How do you know? Just because none of his residents have voiced any
complaints? Baker said, and laughed at his own joke.
Bob, that isn't nice.
One thing, Lee said, quickly gazing toward the doorway. Jessie doesn't
know we're practically on top of a cemetery. I left out that detail
when I described the surroundings. I'll break it to her slowly, he
added.
Understandable, Baker said. He slapped his hands together and leaned
forward. Well, you've come from a rather big school system. It's going
to be a lot different here, but I think you will like it. We have a
fairly intelligent faculty and the board of education isn't bad if you
look at them relatively. It' s nothing like some of the outlying
communities with schools governed by crewcut conservatives who think the
blackboard is a frill.
And, Tracy added, you'll find the community very sports minded,
especially when it comes to the basketball team.
Yeah, I know. I've already been told about two hundred times how well
liked Mr. Andersen was and how important it is to the school to have a
good basketball team. I think the reason I was hired was because of my
record as a basketball coach and my own achievements as an
undergraduate.
Very astute of you, Baker said. You're in your element, buddy.
Now, Bob, don't say anything to discourage him, Tracy warned. He can be
a terrible iconoclast when he gets started. Oh?
What is that, Bob? Jessie asked from the doorway.
Don't tell me teaching has made you cynical. She placed the glasses on
the coffee table carefully. The Bakers were mesmerized by her every
move. She sensed it in the silence. I'm fine, she said, smiling. Bob,
you sound like a very nice and very interesting man. Are you cynical?
Oh, I don't know. I suppose I get a little envious sometimes. I mean
Lee here will get my students absolutely riled up into an hysteria with
his basketball team, but I will struggle to get them to stay awake and
try to understand why poetry has any purpose. But let's not get too
philosophical here, he added quickly, and leaned over to open the
bottle. Let's get right to a toast.
He poured the champagne and Lee gave Jessie hers.