Authors: Cheri Lewis
My heart drops in fear. “Is it another gift?”
Alexander looks out the window through a lifted blind, he drops the blind back in place then shakes his head. He walks back to Jessie, “Let’s go,” he orders.
Jessie bumps into me as he stands from the chair. Tank turns around and he looks upset I’m still too scared to move. A roaring sound comes from outside and I look at the closed blinds like I would be able to see what it is. I look back at Tank and note he’s pissed when he says, “I don’t need or want your help. You want to help me to pretend to forget try to fix me, like nothing happened?”
I quickly stand and stammer, “I—I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He yanks the string on the blinds so hard it makes a loud noise and dust flies everywhere, I walk to the window and there stands my mother wearing her large gardening hat giving directions to my father that he clearly can’t hear because he’s on his riding lawn mower cutting the grass. “Oh… my… gosh…” I turn around to look back at Tank but he’s gone. Stunned I look back to watch my mother pull a tray of flowers off the trailer that is hooked up to my father’s truck. She spots me and waves. “What are you guys doing?” I cry aloud to the empty room then lay my head on the window. “Why—why daddy—why did you listen to her?”
I jump when the front door slams and I watch Tank keep his head down and walk right past my parents without even a word.
Jackass.
“What’s going on?” Jessie asks as he walks up behind me.
I stand and close my eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Tank is pissed he thinks we’re trying to fix him. Whatever that means. I know my parents just want to do something to show their thanks but why couldn’t they have just sent him a card or shake his hand or something? I mean who thanks someone by landscaping their yard?”
Jessie put his hands on my shoulders. “Your parents do, sunshine. They’re always helping somebody, somehow, some way. As long as I’ve known them, they’re givers, not takers.”
My embarrassment subsides. He’s right, that’s who my parents are and Tank needs an attitude adjustment. I turn around and hug Jessie tightly to me and he hugs me equally as tight, I look up and frown, “You look terrible.”
“I don’t feel so hot either. Alexander said the swelling would go down in about 45 minutes but my skin could be heat sensitive for hours.”
“Only you would pepper spray yourself.”
He lets me go and steps back. He runs his fingers lightly over his face. “Well that’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about me doing to myself again, at least not on purpose.”
I grab Jessie’s hand and pull him with me. “Come on. Let’s go talk to my parents.” I open the door and I sigh when I see a concrete block is now filling the hole that had been previously in the steps. My mother is back at the trailer unloading another tray of flowers.
She almost drops her tray of flowers when she sees Jessie. “Good Lord! Jessie, what happened to you?”
“It was a little pepper spray mishap,” he says sheepishly
My mother jerks upright. “They pepper sprayed you?”
I quickly assure her because she went into mother hen mode and somebody was about to get it, “No Momma, he pepper sprayed himself by accident.”
Her face wrinkles as she contemplates my statement. She walks to Jessie and lightly grabs his chin turning his face different angles while looking at it. “You need to put some cream on it.”
My daddy zooms by on his riding lawnmower wearing his straw hat over his ear muffs and throws up his arm, waving at us. We both wave back. I look back at my mother “Mom, I get it; I swear I do, but I think you offended Tank. You should’ve asked or given him a heads up or maybe even said something to me.”
So we could’ve totally avoided this fiasco
.
“Well, it’s too late now, we’ve started it. Are you going to help us?”
So much for waffles and visiting Harry
. “Yeah, let me get changed.”
We work for hours in the yard cleaning and planting new plants and flowers. Jessie stays inside for most of it, as apparently sweating after you get pepper sprayed isn’t good for you and it makes it hurt again. When we are finished we stand out by the road and admire our work. It’s amazing what a little TLC does for his place. My mother says to my dad, “If only we had thought to bring your pressure washer.”
“Mom. Do not bring the pressure washer back over here,” I beg.
We turn and look behind us when tires crunch on loose gravel. A new black Lincoln Continental pulls up and comes to a halt directly in front of Tank's place. A gray haired couple step out of the car and it’s apparent they are on the wrong side of the tracks. There isn’t a hair out of place or a wrinkle in either of their clothing. It’s 95 degrees today and the woman has her hair styled, thick make-up piled on and jewelry all in place. They come and stand beside us and stare at the front yard, too, which I find a little unsettling. The older man crosses his arms over his chest and asks, “Is he selling the place?”
I look at him and shake my head. “No sir, not that I’m aware of.”
My father turns and asks, “Can we help you with something?”
“No, no. We came to see Tatum. Our daughter stopped by yesterday to see him. She called us and said we needed to come check on him and it seemed important.”
“Holy shit!” was supposed to be said inside my head but by the look on my parents’ face I’ve said it out loud and loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m—I’m so sorry about that, I thought a bee had landed on you and I’m allergic,” I lie a terrible and unbelievable lie.
Although the woman looks at me with distaste, the older gentleman doesn’t seem to be as pretentious maybe because he will at least speak to me. The older lady has yet to even greet us. “It’s alright young lady. We’ll just go on in and see how he’s doing. You guys keep up the great work.”
He thinks we’re yard laborers,
I look down at how dirty I am then sigh, “Oh. Well, Tank left a little while ago and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. Do you want me to call him and see?”
“No, that won’t be necessary. I was worried the way Christine sounded that he was worse but this looks like an improvement—,” he says as he looks back over the yard.
I know it’s none of my business but I have a hundred questions I want to ask him right now, but of course I don’t. “You can go inside and wait for him if you like. We have plenty to drink including homemade lemonade my mother made this morning.” That got both their attention, the woman’s face turns to a frown and if there was any question before there isn’t now. Chrissy learned her bitch stare from her momma and she wants to know who I am.
The older man seems to be in deep thought. He finally speaks, “I’m Hershel and this is my wife Margaret. We’re Suzanne and Christine’s parents; Tatum was married to our daughter before she passed. And you are?”
My mother gasps, then states with sincerity before I can respond, “I’m so sorry for you loss, I can’t imagine losing a child. I can’t even begin to fathom the nightmare you have endured.”
He eyes my mother a bit confused like she should’ve known that already, “Thank you, it wasn’t easy. I don’t think we will ever completely heal. We know she wasn’t perfect but she was our little girl and we loved her.”
Now I have a thousand questions.
Why would you tell complete strangers she wasn’t perfect? And why wasn’t she perfect?
I stick my hand out, “I’m McKinsey. These are my parents June and Charles.”
He reaches out and grips my hand lightly. “It’s nice meeting you. Could you tell Tatum we stopped by?”
“Sure. Does he need to call you or anything?”
“Again, not necessary. Margaret and I are pleased he’s moving on.”
Moving on? Because we mowed his grass?
I turn back and look at the building.
What happened here?
When I look back the man is stepping into his car ready to leave. The gray haired woman stands at her open door, still frowning. Her voice cracks when she finally speaks and it’s deeper than it should be, like she is a smoker. “Don’t hurt him, he’s been through enough. If you can’t love him properly, then leave him be.”
She steps in the black shiny car and shuts the door. My parents are looking from the older couple to me and I have to pick my bottom jaw up off the concrete sidewalk,
what the hell?
As soon as I hear my mother’s voice, “McKinsey—” I throw up my hand giving her the international signal to hush, “Mom, there is nothing going on between Tank and me and I can’t do this right now. Please. Just please, I have no idea what is going on.”
“McKinsey, I swear sometimes I wonder just what you think of me. I wanted to know what happened to his wife.”
I sigh and raise my face toward the sun and close my eyes, “Momma, I’m sorry. I was just caught off guard by what that lady said and I thought you were going to ask me about Tank. All I know is she was murdered and it was never solved and they had a child together that died as well.”
I lower my head and look at my father and he says, “They’ve never found out who did it?”
“Not that I know of, but I really don’t know anything and now his dead wife’s parents think I’m his new girlfriend.” And, if Tank wasn’t mad before he is about to get really pissed,
dang it.
My mother seems to move on quickly from the in-laws visiting when she says, “Charles, we need to be going. I still need to bake the cake for tomorrow’s dinner on the grounds.” My father raises the weed eater showing her he’s already loading stuff up. She turns back to me. “Are you and Jessie going to be there?”
“As far as I know we plan to be.”
Jessie opens the front door and walks out, his hair was wet and he has changed into clothes that were acceptable to visit daddy number two. His stepfather likes Jessie to dress a certain way which is normally clothes good enough to attend church. When Jessie reaches us he asks, “How noticeable is my face?”
His eyes are a little bloodshot but most of the redness has faded away. “It’s a lot better.”
“Did you put any cream on it?” my mother asks.
“No, I didn’t have any, I just let it air out. Alexander said it was best.”
My mother nods, and then I ask, “You going to see your parents?”
“Yes, mother called and said I needed to come for dinner tonight. I asked if you could come but she said her and number two needed to talk to me privately. You know I told them it didn’t matter whatever they told me I would tell you but she still asked that I come alone. I wonder if they’re having another baby.”
“Oh Jessie,” my mother and I both exclaim.
He grins, and then starts walking to his car, “Well, let me go see what all this is about and I’ll be back in a bit. By the way, you guys did a great job out here; it actually looks like someone is using this place and not an old abandoned building.”
The mower engine cranks to life and my father drives it up on the trailer. My mother walks to the flowerbed and begins gathering up her tools as I grab the gas can and take it to my father. By then my mother is back and placing her tools on the trailer. After my dad cuts the mower off I look between my parents. “Hey I know I don’t tell you enough but thank you for being such great parents.”
My dad smiles at me tenderly. “I guess that’s why we have such a great daughter, great parents made her.” He winks at me.
My mother pats my shoulder then turns and opens the passenger side truck door. “We’ll see you guys at church tomorrow; call us if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
I watch them drive away slowly down the street. Before I walk to the front door I admire all our work. It really does look great I just hope it is worth it and Tank will get over it. When I walk inside, I find Alexander sitting in one of the lobby chairs. We haven’t had much interaction so when I say “Hey,” it feels a little awkward. “Do you know where Tank went?” he asks.
“No, he got upset earlier and left.”
He exhales loudly. It’s obvious he’s upset. He shakes his head and when he doesn’t immediately reply I thinks that’s my signal to leave but I’m wrong. “I need to find him, I have to go back home for a few days. Ambrose and his team are still searching for Zebib and—”
He stops when I cackle out laughing. I wave. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
He eyes me a moment. “Cootie is on his way to sit with you.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing again because it’s so funny to hear this big oversize no nonsense dude saying words like Zebib and Cootie with his accent.
I look over my shoulder at the front door when a knock echoes from it; Alexander stands and walks past me to open it. “What’s up my brother from down under?” Alexander lifts his chin in acknowledgement. Cootie looks down at his shoes when he continues, “I tracked his phone, and he’s at Weasel’s.”
“That motherfucker, I told him—” Alexander says through gritted teeth. He yanks his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll be back; if he’s blotto you may have to stay on an extra shift.” The door slams so hard the windows rattle.
My eyes are the size of half dollars when I ask Cootie, “What’s Weasel’s?”
He sighs as he pats his rounded belly. “It’s a bar… a biker’s bar.”