by Gregory Payette
Artwork by Gregory Payette
EDGAR PUT ON THE TV and turned the UHF dial, tuning it to channel 38. It didn’t come in very well, as was the case with most of the channels lately. It’d been like that for a while, and Edgar kept meaning to go up on the roof and see what was wrong with the antenna. But he hadn’t.
The picture was snowy and the image kept rolling, but he could still see it was Carlton Fisk up to bat.
The Red Sox were playing the Tigers.
Charlie was asleep on the couch, curled up in a ball and snoring like an old man. Edgar hadn’t fed him yet. He hadn’t fed himself, either. He was hungry. The fridge was empty. But the last thing he wanted to do was drive to the grocery store, nearly 20 minutes away. He’d thought about going out to the pond to catch some fish, but for whatever reason he’d been tired all day. He had little motivation, and even took a quick nap around noontime.
That’s how some days went.
There was a knock at the door.
Charlie sat up and barked.
“Quiet,” Edgar said, wondering who could be at his door.
It was a good thing he’d picked up and done some cleaning the day before. Maybe that’s why he was tired?
He hadn’t cleaned the place in a while, even though it never took long. At least not as long as it did when Paula was still alive and they lived in that big house. It would take a full weekend. Although he didn’t help much back then. He wished he had.
The house he was in now was tiny compared to what they once had. It was of a cottage, really, with one tiny bedroom and then a kitchen, if you could even call it that, with a single counter and a stove and refrigerator—both half the normal size. The kitchen and the room with the couch and TV were all one space the size of a one-car garage. He had a tiny round table in the corner with two chairs on either side of it under the window so he could look out at the pond. It’s where he usually ate.
He thought about that big house often, and wondered what things would’ve been like if that same house was on the property he had now. He had a lot more land, especially compared to the postage size lot they owned out in suburbia, all the neighbors up in everyone else’s business.
He hardly saw his neighbors now, and preferred it that way. Sometimes he’s see one of them out on the pond, but not too often. Especially once the summer was gone.
When he opened the blinds on the door, he wasn’t exactly surprised to see his brother’s wife, Deborah, standing out there looking in at him through the window.
He unlocked the door. And when he opened it, he saw that she was crying.
“What’s the matter now?” Edgar said, but hadn’t yet asked her to come in. He didn’t think he had to. Sometimes she’d show up and wouldn’t even knock, would just walk inside. Edgar had to tell her he’d rather she knock first, but finally smartened up and always locked his door.
Deborah just stood there outside the door, crying. She wiped her cheeks. “Is Jimmy here?” She peered inside past Edgar.
“No. Why would he be here?”
She sighed.
He could smell the booze on her breath.
“You want to come in?” Edgar stepped back from the doorway, holding the door open for her. “Come on, you’re letting the bugs in.”
Deborah stepped inside and Charlie went up to her, started sniffing her legs. “You smell buttercup?” she said, smiling as she crouched down to pet the dog.
She wasn’t even crying anymore, and Edgar wondered if maybe she was putting on show. That’s always how it went with Deborah. She’d show up at Edgar’s house crying, as if her whole world was falling apart and she had nowhere else to go. Once he’d invite her in she’d start acting as if nothing had happened.
“You try the bar?” he said.
Deborah nodded. “His car wasn’t there.”
“Did you look around back?”
She shook her head as she straightened up from petting Charlie.
The dog went back to the couch.
“What do you want me to do?” Edgar said. “I tell you every time you show up here, what goes on with you and Jimmy is none of my business. Twenty five years, it’s the same old shit between you two. Just get a goddamn divorce already.”
“You know I love him,” Deborah said. “But I don’t know how much more I can take. You know how he gets.”
“You’re no prize yourself,” Edgar said.
“Why do you have to be so mean?”
“You both sit around drinking all day, then you’re at each other’s throats. You both oughta get some help, you know.”
Deborah looked toward the kitchen area. “Do you have anything to drink?”
Edgar shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
That was a lie, of course. He didn’t want her hanging around. And besides, he could see she’d already had enough to drink. “You shouldn’t be driving around like this. You’re gonna kill someone.”
“I didn’t drive.”
Edgar looked out into the driveway and saw that someone was behind the wheel of a station wagon he didn’t recognize. It was parked behind his Nova. “Who’s that?”
“Shirley. You know Shirley.”
“Do I?”
Deborah didn’t respond.
“I’m surprised you were smart enough to get someone else to drive you around. You shouldn’t even be behind the wheel when you’re sober.”
“Didn’t Jimmy tell you about my accident?”
“What accident?”
“I got in an accident. Jimmy said we can’t afford to repair it. That’s what we got in a fight about.”
“Were you drinking?”
“Today?”
“No. Whenever you cracked up the car.”
Deborah shook her head. “No.”
Edgar looked through the window on the door again. “You just going to leave your friend out there?”
“Can I invite her in?”
“No.”
Edgar had to think of a reason why, other than he didn’t want some stranger in his house. He didn’t even want his own sister-in-law in his house.
“We’re going fishing,” he said, and turned to Charlie back curled up on the couch. “Right Charlie?” Edgar reached for his fishing pole leaning in the corner by the door. He looked at his watch. “In fact, we have to get going, before it gets too dark.”
“The sun’s almost down,” Deborah said. “Why would you go fishing now?”
Edgar shrugged. “Fish ads hungry now. And I don’t have any food. Figured I’d catch some dinner.”
Deborah’s eyes narrowed, and she stared back at him with a look as if she didn’t believe a word he was saying. “Do you want to come out with us? We’re going to get something to eat.”
“I thought you were looking for Jimmy?”
“I am. I mean, I was. But, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t care if he comes home this time.”
Edgar opened the door. “All right, we’re leaving anyway.” He grabbed his fishing pole. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go catch some fish.”