Authors: Alle Wells
Back off his Katleen? That woman could flatten Flo in one whack. But Ackerman was right. It was time for me to go back to Atlanta, pay some bills, and check on the house and Flo. Besides, Ackerman and I were assigned to work together as a team. As dicey as things were at the railroad, I didn’t need to throw any trouble into the brew.
“
Sure, Buddy. I’ll go home this weekend and talk to her.”
Ackerman nodded. “I’m much obliged, Old Boy. We don’t need trouble, you know.”
I patted Ackerman on the shoulder. “You’re exactly right, my friend.”
That Friday morning, I reluctantly said goodbye to Marianne. She encouraged me to go back to Flo and do whatever I needed to do. We planned to meet on my first run back to Huntsville.
Chapter X
Edinburgh Drive
1948
I caught a ride from the station with Ackerman. We rode quietly, looking forward to a two week break before our first run on the diesel engine. The closer we came to Edinburgh Drive, the more concerned I became about what I’d find when I got home. I decided that I’d get a head start by picking Ackerman’s brain.
“
So, what’s going on with the women? Has Katleen told you what Flo’s been up to?”
Ackerman twisted his face and pondered the question for a moment. “Hmm. She didn’t really say. But I know Katleen’s fit to be tied. I work real hard to keep her happy. I don’t like trouble with the women.”
I chuckled. “I know what you mean, Old Buddy. I’ll take Flo out to one of those expensive restaurants she likes; maybe twirl her around on the dance floor. She’ll like that.”
Ackerman shook his head. “Yeah, I only wish life with Katleen was that easy. She’s a hard woman to please.”
Ackerman turned the car onto Edinburgh and pointed, “God Amighty! What’s that?”
I looked past the next two houses and then at mine. The car was still rolling when I jumped out. Milk bottles, tin cans, a rusty bucket and chamber pot, all kinds of rotting food garbage, cracked eggs, chicken innards, and a couple of dead rats were strewn along my side of Ackerman’s fence. The stench was pungent even in the cold winter air.
I stood with my hands on my hips, not knowing what else to do. Katleen Ackerman stepped out on her front porch.
“
What’s going on here?” I yelled.
Katleen crossed her arms over her heavy bust. “Ask your old lady. She’s the one who did it.”
“
But why?” I asked as Ackerman walked around his car to inspect the mess.
Katleen shot back. “Because she’s flat out crazy, sick in the head, that’s what she is. She calls it her spite fence. I told her that hell would freeze over before I clean up that mess.”
“
Don’t worry, Jim. I’ll take care of this.” Ackerman gave me a grim nod. I looked around for the car.
Jim joined his wife on their porch. Katleen pointed her finger at my house. “By the way. She’s in there, but that car’s been gone for over a week now.”
I set my workbag on the driveway and walked to the garage. I brought back a rake and our empty garbage can. I cleaned up the mess, getting madder all the time. What a fine thing for a man to come home to after working three straight weeks. I gave that woman everything, and she appreciated nothing. I agreed with Ackerman’s wife that Flo was a sick woman. I dragged the full trash can back to the garage. I looked up. She was watching me from the window.
Inside the living room, stale cigarette smoke hung in the air and made the room look hazy. She stood by the side window with a cigarette dangling from her fingers, staring at the house next door.
I was so angry that my body shook. The words from my lips came out like bursts of fire. “Have you lost your mind? I have to work with that guy. Then, you go and do something like that. Do you want to make him mad at me, so maybe I lose my job? Is that what you want? If I lose my job over your foolishness, I guess you can just go back to where I found you. How would you like that? I give you a nice house and everything money can buy. Look how you repay me, by making a fool out of me and embarrassing yourself.”
I ran out of steam. Flo hadn’t moved. She stood there dazed, staring at nothing. The ashes from her cigarette dropped on the emerald green carpet. Since Dottie’s death, my wife had become harder to reach and impossible to touch. Maybe she is crazy, I thought. Maybe I should send her away to an asylum.
I went to my bedroom to unpack my workbag. A tall, azure vase etched in fine red lines and tiny engraved flowers lay on top of my clothes. I closed the bedroom door, sat on the edge of the bed, and held the vase in my arms. I thought about Marianne. Remembering my time with her calmed my anger and helped me reason through the problem. I knew that I needed to help Flo get back to normal so that I could get back to Marianne.
When I closed the bedroom door behind me, Flo had left the living room. I walked by the ashtrays overflowing with butts, mounds of magazines, dirty dishes on the dining room table, pots and pans stacked high in the kitchen sink. A cold, half-fried egg laid in a clump of white grease in a pan on the stovetop. She’d left two empty bottles of gin on the kitchen table. I sat down and my shirtsleeve stuck to the tablecloth. I rolled my sleeves up and looked out the window. Two Cardinals hopped around the young pecan sapling I’d planted earlier that year. I watched the red birds and thought about what I would say to Flo.
Flo slipped into the kitchen quietly and pulled a Coca-Cola from the icebox. I noticed that she had cut her hair to the nape of her neck and parted it simply on the side like the movie stars. She wore a pink satin robe wrapped tightly around her small frame and fuzzy pink scuffs.
I pointed to the empty bottles and asked, “You been drinking, Flo?”
She twisted her mouth as she popped the cap of the bottle. “What’s it to ya?”
I reached for her hand. “Come, sit down. Please.”
I gently pulled her into the chair next to mine at the table. Her hand felt thin and frail in mine. Flo drank from the bottle and looked out the window on the opposite side of the kitchen toward Ackerman’s house.
I examined the bright red paint on her fingernails. “Sorry I blew my top.”
“
It don’t matter,” she said.
“
Why have you been drinking?”
Flo pulled her hand away, fiddled with her nails, and shrugged.
“
Just lonesome, I guess.”
“
And the trash, what’s that all about?” I asked.
Flo pointed to the house next door and raised her voice as if Katleen could hear her. “She came over here last week all puffed up ’cause a stray dog got into the trash and strewed a little bit in her yard. So I figured I’d give her some real trash to get mad over.”
I tried to understand her way of thinking. “What made you think of doing such a thing with the chicken, rats and all?”
Flo leaned back and crossed her arms like a determined child. She talked faster, like a wind-up toy. “My mama did it. She called it a spite fence. I bought the chicken planning to cook it, but I didn’t know how. The rats were already in the can. But I told
her
that she better not mess with me. I warned her. She better not mess with me.”
I reached over and touched her arm. The slippery cloth of the pink robe made my skin crawl. “Come on, Little Kitten. She’s not worth getting all worked up over. Why don’t you just leave her alone?”
Flo cut her eyes at me cautiously. “I’ll leave her alone if she leaves me alone.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Maybe Jim and I can work something out. But you’re going to have to get used to me being gone. My job has changed. I might be gone three weeks out of the month. You can’t just sit here and drink all the time.”
Flo pointed toward Ackerman’s house. “How come her husband comes home every Friday and you don’t?”
“
That’s ’cause he’s older than me, see? I’ve got to put more time in than he does,” I chuckled. “I’ve got to pay my dues so you can buy pretty things like this nice robe you’re wearing.”
Flo brushed her hands over the robe. “Well, I suppose you’re right.”
“
By the way, where’s the car?” I asked.
Flo jumped up. “Well, I better get dressed.”
I followed her through the house and stepped over the dirty laundry piled on the floor in the hallway. I tried, unsuccessfully, to control my voice. The words came out in a threatening tone.
“
Where’s the car, Flo?”
She stopped in front of the bathroom door. “Oh, the car, well, it’s over at Jack’s place. He said for you to call him when you got home.”
“
I’ll do that. While I’m talking to him, I’ll see if he knows somebody who can come in and clean this place up.”
Flo slammed the bathroom door and turned the lock.
***
Jack stopped in front of the house in a red wrecker truck. “Hey Mickey, old boy, I hope you don’t mind riding in the truck. I had to drop a car off at the junkyard and thought I’d swing by.”
I smiled. “Not at all. I appreciate you picking me up. But I thought you’d drive my car over.”
Jack shook his head. “Mick, that car is hopeless, totaled.”
“
Totaled? What do you mean totaled?”
Jack kept his eye on the road and used his fingers to drive home his point. “Just what I said. Flo’s lucky she didn’t hit that traffic cop. That cop was boiling mad. I’m surprised he didn’t throw her in the pokey.”
I exhaled a long, tired sigh. “I’m in the dark on this one, Old Buddy. Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Inside the station, Jack plucked a couple of RC Colas from the red drink box. He sat across from me in a straight-backed chair.
“
You know how crowded it is over there at that three-point road where Argonne crosses over North Avenue and Ponce de Leon. A cop directs traffic there at lunchtime and quitting time for the factory nearby. Bailey, the cop on duty the day it happened, told me that Flo came barreling through there at maybe thirty-five miles an hour. He said he waved his arms and blew the whistle, but she didn’t even slow down. He said he jumped out of the way and fell flat on his butt just before Flo slammed into the side of a produce truck. The street was shut off for three hours while the city cleaned up the mess. Yeah, I gotta tell you, Mickey, that car of yours is a goner.”
I leaned over and held my head in my hands. “What next? I’ve only been home three hours, and I find one mess after another. I don’t know what to do about her, Jack.”
Jack held up his hands. “I just fix cars, not lives. We all have to do that for ourselves.”
I looked up at my life-long friend. “Yeah, you’re a lot of help. How about driving me over to the Chevrolet shop? I guess you can take the old one to the dump after I take my stuff out.”
Jack scratched his chin. “What kind of stuff do you have in there?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess there’s something.”
Jack started pointing his fingers again. “Well, I’d have to cut that car in two pieces to get the doors open. I ain’t got that kind of equipment.”
I crammed my fists into my pants pockets and felt the heat rise in my face. “Damn, that woman is a pain in the ‘you-know-what’.”
Jack slapped me on the back. “You’re my best friend, Mickey. You deserved better luck in life, that’s a fact. But I do suggest you take out some insurance on your next car.”
I gave him a half-smile and nodded. “That’s a good idea. By the way, do you know a good housekeeper?”
Jack said, “There’s a widow lady at my church who needs a job. She’s a customer of mine, owes me money on her gas tab, too. I’ll give you her number.”
“
Do you think she can come today?”
Jack laughed. “She sure needs the money. Come on inside. We’ll give her a call.”
***
I bought a brand-new Chevrolet Fleetmaster fastback. The car was green like Flo’s living room furniture and carpet. The interior wood paneling made the car smell good. I drove over to the Kirkwood Baptist Church to pick up Mrs. Jenkins.
Mrs. Jenkins, holding her pocketbook in front with two hands, stood at the end of the churchyard next to the street. She was a prim looking little woman wearing a black Sunday dress coat and a little topknot of a hat on her head. I pulled up to the curb, leaned over and opened the door.