Chapter Twenty-Two
Six A.M. came slowly as Richard watched the clock tick away every minute of his fitful night’s rest. Several customers had come to expect him to be at the store so they could do their shopping before work. There were enough patrons who preferred this routine that it was worth losing a little sleep. He knew that the relationships with his customers had to remain strong if the store was to survive. The discipline to do whatever it took in order to succeed had been instilled in him years earlier, no matter the sacrifice.
Throughout the morning a steady stream of customers, mostly ladies, approached the counter intermittently for Richard to ring-up their purchases. Not until then did he realize that there were not a lot of reasons for men to come into his store. He thought about stocking fishing supplies, or rifle cartridges in hopes of attracting male patrons. Hanging out with the guys was something he had not done since meeting Susan. The prospect of making new friends was palatable and it helped to distract him from the failure that was once a successful marriage.
When the number of people in the store dwindled, Richard took the opportunity to hurry from be-hind the counter to clean the store. Empty spaces on the shelves were made to look full by moving jars and bottles to the front, creating the facade of abundance. Once finished, Richard hurried behind the counter and retrieved a broom and dustpan. He frantically cleaned the mess left by the many shoppers who tracked in leaves and dirt. After a few minutes, the vigorous back-and-forth action of the broom began to slow. Lack of sleep sapped him of his energy and he closed his eyes trying to briefly re-charge. His legs wobbled as he swayed from side to side. Slowly, he moved behind the counter and sat down heavily on his stool. The irony of how frantic his life had become since moving to Erst-while was not lost on him. Their dream was to spend more time together. Reality dictated their time was best spent apart.
Richard placed his elbow on the counter in front of him. He formed a loose fist with his hand and propped his cheek against it. A surreal fog clouded his mind. His breathing was deep and labored and he knew he could fall asleep with ease. It became harder for him to hold his eyes open. Just as he closed them and drift-ed away from consciousness the bell above the door rang. He looked up to see his wife walking through the store. There was no longer a warm feeling whenever he saw her. She had become a pariah to him.
Susan did not look at her husband. She walked in wearing the same clothes she had on the night before. He watched as she made her way down the middle aisle, past one of the two remaining customers and into the back room, without a word to anyone. She came to tell her husband that she realized moving to Erstwhile had caused her to lose her advantage … her identity. An equally sleepless night had been spent by her and Emma examining Susan’s feelings and their genesis. The conclusion drawn by the women was that there was no way she could make her life fit into the voids created by his past. Cocaine blinded them to any reflection upon themselves.
He wondered where she had been all night. Richard’s heart began to beat dynamically, providing the much-needed life-blood to his body and mind. His synapses fired rapidly stimulating every neuron that was woven into the fabric of his psyche. The pictures that his thoughts created were tainted by every failed experience during his life. He could no longer appreciate the things about her that he loved. Before Richard could follow her into the back room, an elderly woman approached the counter. She placed her basket of goods in front of him and smiled sheepishly. “Did you find everything you need?” he asked, politely.
“Yes, but there is one thing that my husband loves that I haven’t been able to find in here or at the I.G.A.,” the woman said.
“What’s that?” Richard asked, as he began to remove the items from her basket.
“Spanish Bar Cake.” The woman held her hands forming a long rectangle, and began to explain. “It’s a rectangular cake with raisins and white icing.”
Richard smiled. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. My grandmother always kept one around for my grandfather. I like them, too.” He paused. “I’ll see if I can find out who makes them and stock it just for you.” The woman’s groceries barely filled the canvas bag she brought with her. “Do you want me to carry that to the car for you?”
The woman grabbed the bag by its handles and lifted it off the counter. “No thank you, young man. I need the exercise.” Her face wrinkled from the exertion of her sincere smile.
Richard watched her walk out of the store and onto the sidewalk. He looked for signs that she may need help. While still watching he heard what he thought was the sound of Susan’s electric toothbrush coming from the storeroom. She must have gone by the house before coming to the store. Surely, I would have noticed if she had left it in the storeroom. There was only a sink and a toilet in the back and I don’t recall seeing it. She must have brought it in her purse. He stopped and then asked himself, why do I care? He began to walk toward the storeroom when he heard a female voice call his name. “Richard!”
He stopped and turned to face Talitha. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” he asked, nervously. Having his wife and a woman he was attracted to in the same building made him nervous.
“I don’t have to be there until eight o’clock.”
Richard looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty five. “Well, come sit down,” he said as he once again stepped behind the counter. He removed the stool from behind the desk and placed it in front so that she had somewhere to sit. He moved behind the counter and rested his forearms along its edge, leaning toward her. She leaned toward him resting her arms in the same manner. They were face-to-face. Being so close to this beautiful, young woman caused him to immediately forget that his wife was in the next room. He admired her smooth, fresh skin that was void of imperfection.
The young girl had stopped by for the sole reason of saying hello to a friend. Richard craved some-thing more and she embodied all that he desired. An uncomfortable silence filled the small space between them. He marveled at the youthfulness in her face. Her jaw-line was sharp, eyes were bright, and smile was just as he remembered it the first day they met. His heart did not beat faster, but harder, with more conviction than it had in a while.
“I thought about you all night, last night,” Talitha said, quietly.
“Me?” Her confession surprised Richard. “Why me?”
Talitha broke the eye contact between the two and looked around the room, searching her mind for the right words. “I think it’s because my heart goes out to you.”
Richard wondered what she meant, but was afraid to ask.
Conscious of the importance of saying the right thing, she tried to clarify her statement. “I just know that you are a good person, and deserve better.”
Richard didn’t hear what she said. He was too busy imagining how soft her lips would feel to a kiss. They glistened in what little light the early morning sun could push through the front window of the store. He watched them as they formed the words that came from her mouth. The clarity in her eyes and their soft brown color conveyed warmth. There had been times during his life when he was alone, but having, and then losing Susan created a greater void than he had ever known. The desire to fill that chasm overpowered him.
At that moment, Susan emerged from the back room holding an empty bottle of Maker’s Mark. She witnessed the energy between the couple at the front of the store. They were so wrapped up in each other that neither one saw her. She turned and walked back into the storeroom. The bell over the door rang as someone entered the shop. Richard stood straight and backed away from Talitha. When he knew that there was some-one in the room with them, guilt was an uninvited guest. Talitha coolly and slowly leaned back on the stool, before sitting straight without facing whoever had entered the room.
Richard did not recognize the man who interrupted his fantasy. He wore jeans and a dark gray shirt with a name-patch sewn onto the left chest. On the opposite side was a logo from the Erstwhile Plumbing, Co. It was designed with a spigot and a drop of water falling from it. Talitha still did not turn around. She waited for the man to approach the counter. Richard smiled at him. “How are you today, sir?”
“If I were doin’ any better they’d declare me a controlled substance,” the man said.
Richard furrowed his brow as he looked at the man curiously, feeling a twinge of deja vu. “What can I help you with?”
The man stopped in front of the counter, placed both hands on its edge and leaned forward in order to look back toward Talitha. When he came into her periphery, she turned and looked at him. He smiled at her, exposing his rotting teeth. The expression she returned gleamed in comparison. “I didn’t mean to interrupt any-thing,” the man said, accusingly as he looked back-and-forth between she and Richard.
“You’re not,” Talitha said. Her cool demeanor had been developed over the years of living in an oppressive society. “I was just leaving.” She turned to Richard and said, “I just wanted to let you know that your great aunt was a member of the D.A.R. That makes you eligible, not for the D.A.R., of course, but for the S.A.R. The nearest chapter is in Tallahassee. You’d have to drive a couple hours to go to meetings.”
“I appreciate that bit of information.” Richard had no idea what she was talking about, but tried to be cool about whatever message she tried to send.
Talitha stood and began to walk out of the store.
“Have a good day,” Richard said, as he waved to her.
“Have a good day?” The man asked him, in-credulously. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” His demeanor changed instantly from confrontational to congenial. “You ever do any hunting?”
Richard was scared by the curious change in the man’s tone. “No, but I used to fish a lot with my grand-father.”
“Me and some of the other boys want you to come deer hunting on Saturday with us.”
“I don’t own a gun.”
“I’ve got one you can use. Besides, the way things are going around here, our way of life is being threatened.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Richard said.
“Ever since the mill closed, the paper company has been selling all of the land they used to grow pine trees. It won’t be long before they’ve sold all our hunting land right out from under us.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I’ll pick you up at your house at four o’clock in the morning on Saturday.”
So much for sleeping in, Richard thought. “Do you need directions?” he asked.
“No. I know where you live.”
His response made Richard even more uncom-fortable. “I’ll see you at four o’clock on Saturday,” he said, as he looked at the man’s name patch, “Gaylord.”
The man looked down at his chest. “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself.” He extended his hand. “I’m Gaylord Alsobrook.”
Richard shook the man’s hand. “Richard Styles.”
“Well, I gotta get outta here. I’ve got calls to make,” the man said, as he walked out of the store.
“Have a good day,” Richard gave his usual send-off. Gaylord passed by the front window and the two men exchanged emotionally measured waves.