November 7, 2006
Chapter 8
(Filed under: The Novel)Anwyn jogged back into town early on a Saturday morning, but Richmond was beginning to awake. A TV flashed in a window, a truck rumbled in the distance and a man sitting on his porch waved.
She went to the post office, the bell on the door jingling as she opened it. Charlie panted at her side, obedient and happy.
"Good morning," the woman behind the counter said.
"Morning," Anwyn replied, a little winded. She went to her box, spun the dial, and retrieved the mail.
"So you must be Richmond's little runner, huh?" the woman asked.
"Huh?" Anwyn said, looking up from the pile of mail. "Oh, yeah. I guess."
"So you're Jack's girl, right?" she asked. Then Anwyn remembered that the post office wasn't just where you got your mail. She gave up on making a quick stop.
"Yeah, I'm Anwyn," she said. "This is Charlie."
"Nice to meet you, sugar. I’m Mabel. And that's a nice looking dog you've got there. We don't get many big and fluffly like him. Usually it's the scruffy looking farm dogs or the little tiny lap dogs for the old folks."
"Thanks," Anwyn said. "We like him."
"So how do you like Richmond?" Mabel asked, leaning against the counter.
"It's all right," Anwyn said.
"C'mon now, sugar," Mabel said. "You don't have to lie." Anwyn giggled.
"It's really flat," Anwyn said, trying again. Mabel nodded. "Actually, it is a nice change of pace." What she really meant was that it was nice to get away from St. Paul and all the immediate connections to Isabelle. Kansas still had connections, but there were distance memories. She wasn't living in the same house where her sister died, wasn't retracing her last steps, wasn't listening to her mom shout and then feeling the emptiness. It was a nice change of pace.
"Yeah, I suppose it is slower here," Mabel said. "Wouldn't know myself."
"Kansas born and raised?" Anwyn asked.
"Yep," Mabel answered. "The pace may be slower, and the land may be flatter, but I reckon people are the same wherever you go." Anwyn smiled and nodded, though the thought wasn't very encouraging.
"It's nice to meet you, Mabel," Anwyn said. "I suppose I'll see you around."
"Suppose you will. Bye now Anwyn."
At home the house was still quiet, her dad choosing to sleep in on Saturdays. Even though he worked at home and could technically sleep in every day, he still got up at 6:30 a.m. Monday through Friday, just like he always did, and slept in until at least 10:00 a.m. on Saturday.
Anwyn curled up at the kitchen table to work on homework until her dad crawled out of bed. Shortly after 10:00 her came tromping down the stairs, wearing pajama pants and a skuzzy T-shirt. His hair was messed up and he needed a shave.
"Good morning, Dad!" Anwyn said, louder than necessary. Jack just waved his hand, motioning for Anwyn to be quiet. He got breakfast in a zombie-like state and finally collapsed into a chair opposite Anwyn. After his first bite of cereal and a splash of orange juice he started to wake up.
"So how long have you been up?" he asked, his voice still scratchy.
"Since just after sunrise," Anwyn answered. "Charlie and I went for a jog."
"That's nice," Jack said. "You know the sun still comes up, whether you get up to see it or not."
"And you know you could keep right on sleeping if you like," Anwyn said. "You don't have to be so pleasant and perky on my account." Jack looked Anwyn in the eye and gave her his best fake smile.
"Ah, sleeping in isn't any fun unless you can draw it out," Jack said. "Your mother got up early on Saturday, too. I never understood that."
Silence. It usually happened whenever one of their growing number of touchy subjects came up.
"You haven't heard from her, have you?" Anwyn asked after a pause.
"No," Jack said. "I called her when we got here. Left a message." Another pause.
"You know you can call her anytime," Jack said.
"Yeah, I know."
"You probably should call her," Jack said.
"It's still too hard," Anwyn said.
"It won't get any easier," Jack said. "I'm not trying to push you, I'm just saying." He took another bite of cereal and it crunched loudly as he chewed.
"Yeah, I know," Anwyn said.
"Families are never easy," Jack said. He'd been in town for a week and still hadn't talked to his own father. It went unsaid, but they both knew it.
"So, what do you have planned for today," Jack asked.
"I wanted to go visit Grandpa Frank," Anwyn said.
"Ah, getting in the Kansas spirit, huh?" Jack said.
"Yeah, I met Mabel at the post office today. I'm on a roll." Anwyn said.
"You should have a score card," Jack said. "Wow, Mabel. That woman has worked there forever. I swear, that has to be the cushiest job in the state. How long do you think it takes to separate the mail for a town with a population of 100?"
"Well, when you have to chat with everyone of them that can be a full day's job," Anwyn said. The two smiled and continued to exchange witty comments across the table while Jack finished his breakfast. This easy rapport was part of the reason the move to Kansas was at all possible. If they had anything less it would have crashed and burned.
The news broke on the night of Christmas. Anwyn's mom had left a few days before, refusing to deal with a family holiday and a broken family. It was just Anwyn and her dad—and Charlie—the house empty and quiet. They opened presents early and enjoyed a breakfast of red and green frosted donuts. Then they spent the day watching cheesy family Christmas movies.
They ordered a pizza for supper and it came while the credits for another movie rolled. The TV finally went blank and they sat in silence eating pizza on the couch. Jack tossed a crust to Charlie when they'd finished.
"So I think we need to talk," Jack started.
"'Bout what?" Anwyn asked.
"Well, about us."
"What do you mean?" Anwyn asked. Jack paused, trying to find the words.
"Well, it's just going to be you and me," Jack said. "I don't think your mom is coming back."
"Yeah, I know."
"Well, the trouble is we've always been a two-income family," Jack said. There were details of the divorce to be worked out still, the possibility of alimony and child support, all financial stuff. But however it worked out it wouldn't be enough to keep the house.
"I just don't think we'll be able to stay here," Jack said. He let it sink in. "I think that may be for the better, all things considered." Anwyn nodded. "I'm also not sure what else we can afford around here. A smaller house would still be a hefty payment, and rent isn't exactly cheap around here."
"So what are you saying?" Anwyn asked.
"I think we need to make a big move," Jack said. "I was thinking we could move back to Kansas." He paused again, letting the idea compute before he continued with his list of reasons.
"OK," Anwyn said.
"OK?" Jack repeated. "That's it?"
"Sure," Anwyn said. "With Isabelle... and with mom... going somewhere else and starting over doesn't seem like a bad plan. I imagine rent is a lot cheaper, too."
"Rent? Ha!" Jack said. "We could both buy a house in Kansas. I was thinking I could ask my boss about long-range consulting and I could start my own business. Plus we know a few people, so we wouldn't have to completely start over. I know it's not the Twin Cities and it'll take some getting used to, but I think it could be good."
"I said it's OK, Dad," Anwyn said. "You don't need to convince me."
"Well I had all those reasons, I might as well use them," Jack said.
"This doesn't mean I have to become a farmer, does it?" Anwyn asked.
"It doesn't mean I have to become a farmer, does it?" Jack said with more emphasis. The two traded jabs at Jack's home state and grinned. After a few minutes Jack spoke again.
"You know this doesn't change anything?"
"Yeah, I know," Anwyn said.
"Isabelle is still dead. Your mom is still gone. We're not running away from anything. We're just starting fresh."
"Right," Anwyn said. Another pause.
"We're always going to remember Isabelle," Jack said, his voice quiet and steady. "I hate what she did. But I'll always love her." He reached over and hugged Anwyn, trying to keep the tears from coming. She wrapped her arms around her dad and the two sat there in the light of the Christmas tree.
"So does this mean we have to trade in the Saab for a pickup?" Anwyn asked. Her dad laughed and they started trading jokes again, picking fun at their soon to be home.
Later that Christmas night, alone in her room in St. Paul, Anwyn thought about her dad's words. He hated what she did but loved his daughter all the same. It was a painful contradiction, but it seemed to carry Anwyn's father through.
Anwyn wondered about herself, if she could so resolutely hate what Isabelle did and fiercely love her just the same. She decided she could not. While she hated what Isabelle did, it was more for the chaos it caused in its wake, what it did to their mom, to their dad. And she wasn't sure if she loved her sister so strongly. Instead she felt strangely indifferent. And that's what bothered her most of all. She kept wondering in her heart, asking the night if it was OK that she didn't miss her sister.
She couldn't tell her dad about these thoughts. It was one of the rare things that even their good rapport couldn't overcome. She knew her dad loved Isabelle so strongly that she hated to think how he'd react if he knew she felt so indifferent.
The funny thing is Jack would show the same stubborn, unexplainable love to Anwyn despite her indifference. She just didn't think it possible.
Posted by kevin at November 7, 2006 9:43 PM
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