Mean Season (26 page)

Sandy drove me home and offered to come in and make breakfast or wash dishes or do anything, anything at all, even though she must have known better than most people that there was nothing. I told her it was okay, even though it wasn't. I told her I was going to try to sleep even though I didn't think I could. She said that she would come by in the morning. She didn't ask, she just said it, which was a relief.

I think it was around two in the morning when I got back home. The electricity was still off, but the vans were gone, and the newsmen were gone. Joshua had lit all sorts of emergency candles, so the inside of our house cast a romantic glow. I wandered into the kitchen, then into the living room, then took a flashlight and headed toward the back hall. I stood in the doorway of Beau Ray's room. In the flashlight's arc, I could see all of his things, his bed, his lamp, the clothes in his closet, the football he believed that his younger brother had sent.

“Hey,” Joshua said, coming up behind me.

I turned around.

“Well?” He opened his hands, waiting for me to speak. He looked so hopeful, standing there. As if he'd only known happy endings. I closed my eyes and felt my lids burn. I must
have managed to shake my head, because he pulled me to his chest and let me sob there for I don't know how long.

He brought me back into the living room, and sat me on the couch. I cried so hard I thought I would throw up, and then it subsided, and I lay my head on his lap. He kept stroking my hair, and I must have dozed off because I remember waking and it was barely beginning to get light out and the candles were burnt way down. Joshua was blowing his nose and when I realized I'd been asleep, I sat up and looked over at him.

“I'm so, so sorry,” he said. His eyes were red.

“I know,” I told him. “I know you are.”

“If I hadn't been—” he said.

I put my arms around his shoulders.

“It's because I was here. That stupid interview.”

“Don't,” I said.

“I keep thinking, I did this.” He choked up as though no more words could fit through.

 

There was a small sound, then, like a soft knock. A tapping. And then again.

“Do you hear that?” I said.

Joshua sat up and listened. The tapping came again.

“Please don't let it be Marcy Thompson,” I said.

I pushed myself up off the couch and went to open the front door. Outside, stood a man who'd been knocking, softly, seeing the candles but knowing the time. He stood very straight, very serious. His clean-shaven face was shaded with the beginnings of stubble, the stubble of a grown man, not a sixteen-year-old. His face held all the time that had passed. I stared at him a moment, then stepped aside.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “Of course, come in.”

Vince walked back inside our house.

“Do you know?” I asked him. “You must know.”

He nodded. “Still the same rug, I see,” he said, and I knew it was really him. It was the same voice I had found impossible to describe. I recognized it in an instant.

I reached out a hand and touched his shoulder.

“Little Leanne,” he said. “I swear I thought of you all the time.”

“You couldn't call to tell me that?” I asked. That may not be the best way to say hello to a brother who's been gone for so long. My voice was something between a snap and a whine. But it's only those you appoint to a higher plane who can disappoint. “Even once on a birthday or something?”

“I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to me,” Vince said.

“There's not a day gone by I haven't wanted to talk to you.”

I introduced him to Joshua.

“Yeah, we met earlier,” Joshua said. “You'd already left for the hospital. I didn't think it was my place to tell you, Leanne. I'm sorry.”

“You were there?” I asked Vince. “Did you see Momma?”

He nodded. “Bad timing, I guess,” Vince said. “Story of my life.”

“It's not your fault,” I said.

He looked into the kitchen and the dining room, but stayed at the doorways, like he was nervous about exploring any farther. “It doesn't feel real, being back here. I'm sorry I didn't come in the other night, Leanne. I just wanted to see what everything looked like, you know, to have it in mind before I actually came in.”

“You shaved,” Joshua said, nodding.

“Sorry if I gave you a start,” Vince said. “Thought they'd have you in Susan's old room.”

“You knew he was here?” I asked.

“I saw that piece on
Hollywood Express.
You and the apples. I thought, look at my little sister all grown. Time to get
back. But first I had to tie up some loose ends. And once I got here, it was harder than I expected to get to the door.”

“You lost your class ring,” I said.

“I had to pawn it.”

“Momma thought you were shot in the head in Kansas.”

“I didn't mean for anyone to think that. I needed some space. I would have called. Tommy knew I was okay.”

“You think Tommy talks to anyone? That's like saying Dad knew.”

Vince blanched, and I remembered why he'd left in the first place.

“Beau Ray knew,” he said quietly.

I apologized and he shrugged.

“I must have just missed you at the hospital,” he said. “Momma asked me to come back here, to see that you were okay. She's still sitting with him.”

It was too much just then. I needed to lie down for a while. “I want to talk to you and hear everything,” I told Vince. “But I can't right now. And it would kill me if I went to sleep and you were gone when I woke up.”

“I'll be here,” Vince said.

“You've got to promise her,” Joshua told him.

“Yeah,” Vince said. “I'll be here. I shouldn't have run the other night. I just—I wasn't ready. I didn't expect to see you. It wasn't you.”

Joshua walked me upstairs and in the hallway put his arms around me. “Listen,” he said. “Earlier. In the bathroom.”

“It's fine,” I told him. I was so drained I thought I might fall over if he took his arms away. “Whatever.” I wasn't sure what he was going to tell me, and I wasn't sure I even wanted to know.

“All this, right now—this is a horrible time. And I think it's going to be horrible, and I swear if I thought there was any way I could protect you from it, I would. You've got to believe me, I would.” He looked hard at me.

“I believe you,” I said.

“But in the bathroom, earlier, that was a great time, our great time. I don't want you to feel weird about it. You really do mean something to me. I…” I guess he ran out of words then because he just looked at me, smiling and awful sad both together.

“We'll be okay,” I said. “It'll all work out.”

“I'm going to be right here, right across the hall. If you need anything, call or come over. Anything.”

I nodded.

“Anything,” he said again. “I'll leave the door open.”

He smiled and gave me a hug and I breathed in his smell and wished he were wrong about not being able to protect me.

 

I didn't know what time it was, because the electricity was still off, but I heard weeping the moment I woke up. That's likely what woke me, so I couldn't pretend, for even a minute, that it hadn't happened. I put my hand against the top of my head and winced at the bump from the wall of the bathtub, from Momma screaming out. That wasn't a dream either.

I think it was Momma crying, but it could have been Susan, or Sandy, who'd come back by, like she'd promised. Susan had started driving toward Pinecob near three in the morning and had reached our house around seven. My eldest brother Tommy showed up an hour later, so by the time I came downstairs around eight-thirty, there was a crowd of family the likes of which I hadn't seen in years. Momma, Susan, Tommy and Vince, grim and tired, but all around the same table.

Tommy had taken the call when Marcy Thompson rang earlier that morning—seems that Hank had died, too. That's what they were discussing when I showed up downstairs. To Marcy's credit, she hadn't asked Tommy to reschedule her interview with Joshua.

Around ten, the phone started ringing and didn't stop for the rest of the day. It seemed like the whole of Pinecob had heard what happened. Judge Weintraub did most of the answering, only filtering through those he knew we'd want to speak to. One of the calls was for me in particular.

“Leanne,” a man's voice said. It was Max.

“Listen, I'm sorry I didn't call you,” I said. “I wanted to, I was going to from the hospital, but I left the house so quick and I didn't have your new phone number.”

“Don't apologize. Please. God, I only wish I could be there with you.”

“So how, who told, did Judy tell you?” I asked him.

“Sandy tracked me through my parents,” he said.

“Oh, right. Good. That makes sense.”

“How are you doing? No, I'm sorry—that's a stupid question.”

“What else do you say, you know? There's nothing to say,” I said. I bit my lip to keep it together. “Everyone's being really nice.” I told Max that his parents had called and already brought over an apple pie.

“I just. God, you must know—” Max said, but I cut him off.

“I do,” I said. “I do know. I'm glad Sandy told you. It would have been really hard for me. But of all people, you should know.”

“I feel so helpless, being all the way out here,” Max said.

“It's no different here. At least you're doing…well, I don't know what you're doing. But it's different, right? No more Winn-Dixie, right?” I blotted my eyes, then my nose. I was not keeping anything together.

“I'm coming back, of course. For the funeral,” Max said.

“You're going to be a pro on planes before long.”

“Leanne, don't—”

“Vince came back, did you hear?”

“Vince, your brother?”

“Yeah.” I looked over to where he sat, next to Tommy on the couch. A baseball game was on and they were watching it without commentary or cheering.

“Wow. That's great. Isn't it?”

“Yeah, it means he's not dead. Apparently, Tommy knew almost the whole time, but he just assumed the rest of us did, too. We're all kind of meeting him again. Vince, I mean. I guess he went through a bad time for a few years, then joined the army and ended up in Alaska. He seems level enough now. He's got a teaching degree, if you can believe that. Says he's going to try to find something around here.”

I didn't know what else to say. Asking about Los Angeles seemed so inappropriate, but it was the only thing I could think of, so I just stayed quiet. Max said he'd see me in a few days.

 

Joshua stayed up in his room most of that first morning after.

“He's got some balls to still be staying here,” Tommy had said at breakfast. He'd sounded spitting mad.

“He can't leave,” I reminded him. “He'll get arrested.”

“Leanne's right,” Judge Weintraub had said.

“Well, he shouldn't be here,” Tommy said. “This all happened on account of him being here. And let me tell you I plan to give that sonofabitch some whatfor—”

“Thomas Robert, you'll say nothing like that!” It was Momma, and she was serious. “Your brother Beau Ray adored that boy. And those TV vans. If you'd been here once this summer, you'd have seen how happy he was. Leanne, tell Tommy how happy Beau Ray was.”

I nodded. “The guys were teaching him broadcasting.”

“Lord knows, I'll feel my anger over this,” Momma went on. “But we are
not
blaming Joshua. This was an accident. If I know one thing, I know that.”

“God knew what He was doing,” Susan said. “He must have had a reason.”

“That's bullshit!” Tommy said. “You're telling me there was a reason when he took our father and fucked up Vince?”

“Hey!” Vince said.

“More of a reason than you not telling us Vince was alive!” I yelled at Tommy.

“I didn't know you thought he was dead!” Tommy said. “It's not like we were allowed to talk about him.”

“Hey!” Vince said again.

“Stop it!” Momma snapped.

There was a lot of staring around the table. Angry staring, sad staring, uncomfortable staring. Joshua interrupted it by showing up, and as soon as he did, the electricity flicked back on.

“Well, that's something,” Judge Weintraub said.

What I Can Remember

T
o this day, I don't really know how it all got done. I don't look to know, either. I don't need to open up and inspect that week again, not just to figure out who brought which casserole.

I know that the power company guys righted the pole that had fallen, round about the time our electricity snapped back on. I know that Lionel dropped by to mow the lawn and that he was in tears as he did. I know that Scooter and Paulie restained the back deck and the front porch and over-saw the professional guys who took down every dead tree in the stand of oaks at the far side of the house.

I remember that there were all sorts of flowers and cards. People from town, from my work, from Momma's work and even Tommy's work. Grant Pearson sent a bouquet and Judy and Lars did, and even the folks from
Hollywood Express,
which I thought was quite considerate, seeing as how they
had lost someone, too. Someone from “Move Your Body, Move Your Mind” must have phoned all the way to Mexico, because Raoul—Beau Ray's favorite physical therapy assistant who'd left the day Joshua arrived—he sent a big basket of fruit and a card full of funny things that he recalled Beau Ray had once done or said to him. Of course, none of us could read it straight through for at least a month, but I've still got it somewhere.

We buried my brother that Thursday. There had been talk of waiting until Saturday, but most everyone Beau Ray had known still lived around Pinecob—or had arrived by Thursday. Susan's husband, Tim, came up with the kids, and Momma's cousin Nora, the one with the gift for musical theater. So there didn't seem reason to postpone the inevitable.

Time doesn't really matter in those circumstances anyhow. That's one thing you forget and then learn again. Nothing makes a day pass any faster or slower. Waiting to put Beau Ray in the ground wouldn't have kept him more alive. And rushing to get him buried wasn't going to let us slog through our grief any faster. Like a cut you get on the bottom of your foot, the kind that won't keep a bandage on for anything. The body will do what it needs to do in its own time. The mind, too, it turns out.

There was a wake the day of the funeral, but no in-church memorial service. Beau Ray's death put Momma in a mood to have at God, and who could blame her? So Susan got voted down and we held the wake at the funeral home in Charles Town where Beau Ray had been taken after the hospital. It was crowded. Lionel told me afterward that it near to shut down Pinecob, but like I said, I wasn't too much involved in logistics.

The police called it a special dispensation, letting Joshua leave our house to attend. I don't think they'd have fought the request even if Judge Weintraub himself hadn't filled out the forms. I was glad they'd let him out. Joshua had stuck
pretty close to me in those first couple of days. Not in a romantic sense—that wouldn't happen again—but it seemed like he was often nearby, like I could reach an arm out and nearly always grab hold of him.

He looked about as terrible as someone that beautiful can look. The only time I remember seeing him smile was on Wednesday, the day before the funeral. I don't know what time it was or what we were doing, but the phone rang and I answered it to a woman's voice.

“Is Joshua there?” she said. “Joshua Reed…or Polichuk.”

I asked who was calling.

“I'm…can you tell him that I know him from way back? My name's Jackie. Reed? I knew his family in Rackett.” She sounded nervous. “You're not Leanne Gitlin, are you?”

“That's me,” I told her.

“You run the fan club,” Jackie Reed said.

“I did,” I said.

“Someone sent me the newsletter. I read that interview you did with him. About his name?”

“He told me all about you,” I told her. I didn't mean to sound standoffish, but I had a hard time working up good cheer those days. All the same, I knew he'd want to talk to her—or if he didn't, that he ought to anyway.

“I can't believe J.P. actually remembered me,” she said. “He hardly knew me.”

“Some people put down deep impressions,” I told her. “I'll get him for you—”

“No, wait!” Jackie Reed said. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so nervous.”

I listened to her hem and haw a little.

“Can you maybe tell me a little what to expect?” she asked. “What's he like these days?”

“Joshua?” I said. “He's a good guy.” And what's funny is that I meant it.

Joshua and Jackie talked a while, and when he hung up the phone, it was the first time in days he'd looked anywhere near to happy. I was jealous—not of her, but of that emotion.

“So, the famous Jackie Reed,” I said. “Of Rackett, Texas.”

“I'm going to see her,” Joshua said. “She's going to come to the set.”

“Do you think she's the same?” I asked him.

He seemed to think on that a while. “I don't,” he said, finally. “But I don't think that matters. I think she's still something.”

 

Thursday morning before the wake, I noticed Vince and Joshua sitting together in the backyard. It was one of those all-over, way-too-hot August mornings—the afternoon was sure to be even more oppressive—and they were just sitting here, in chairs with their feet in the wading pool Paulie had given us.

From the back, they looked so much alike. Vince's hair a little lighter, a little redder and a little shorter, but their shoulders were the same breadth across, and the way they sat, each slouched a little, like they were depressed and casual at the same time. I wanted to go out and sit between them. I had my hand on the handle of the sliding glass door even, but something told me to let them be.

I couldn't hear what they were saying. The voices clouded on their way through the glass and humid air. But I could tell that Joshua was talking and Vince was listening, leaning forward a little now and nodding his head. Joshua's hand motioned. Something about the backyard, maybe? Then he hunched forward and dropped his head into his hands. Vince glanced at Joshua, then turned his gaze toward the trees, and said something.

I stepped back from the sliding door when I saw Vince stand and head for the deck. When he came inside, I grabbed for his arm and pulled him near.

“What's going on? Is everything okay?”

“I'm getting us some iced tea,” Vince said.

“Is Joshua okay?” I asked him.

“He'll get there.”

“He's not still blaming himself?” I asked, and then it was clear to me why Vince might have something to say on that subject.

“Well, if he could leave, he would,” Vince said.

“You know what that's like.”

Vince nodded. “I do remember it, yes. I ought to get him that tea.”

I stepped aside to let Vince get by. I knew I could trust that he'd be back.

 

The first time I saw Max again was at the wake. He and Judy and Lars walked in, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell right after them, like maybe they'd all shared a car. I watched Max head first to Momma and give her a long hug. I watched him make his way around the room, greeting Lionel and Paulie and Scooter, greeting Susan and Tommy, and seeing Vince again for the first time, saying “Wow, look at you,” then shaking his hand. Eventually, Max made it over to me.

“Leanne,” he said. He opened his arms and I let myself lean into him. He smelled the same and that's what stung. I figured he'd smell of palm trees and suntan lotion and whatever else California smelled like, but he just smelled like Max, as if whatever was Max at the core would remain such, no matter where he paid rent.

That got me to crying something fierce. I pulled my arms in and pushed at his chest until he released me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, which was a stupid question, because it was my brother's wake, and me, a mess of tears and still mad at him for leaving without a phone call and so, no, of course not. I turned from him and made for the back
room, which the funeral director had shown us was a good place for privacy. But Joshua caught me right before I could duck inside.

“Hey,” he said. “Here.” Joshua handed me a tissue and put his hand on my shoulder. I think he'd learned, in the four days past, that extra words were unnecessary.

I stood there a while, Joshua beside me, hand still on my shoulder. I looked up once and caught Max looking our way, but after that, he was scarce. There were a lot of people, like I said, and I figured he'd gone outside with Lionel and the rest of the guys.

Once I'd pulled myself together, Joshua and I walked back into the wake. We were headed toward Vince and Grant Pearson, who'd been talking for quite a while, when I saw Sandy, Alice at her side. I froze. Joshua saw them, too, and waved at Sandy.

“Who's that standing next to Sandy?” he asked. “Why do I know her?”

Without the wig and heavy eye makeup, Alice looked different. But I was still afraid that Joshua might remember his meeting with Nicolette.

“Just a friend of Sandy's,” I said. “Maybe she's at AA?”

Joshua shrugged.

“You know, I think she came by the house for the Fourth of July party.”

“Maybe that's it. What's her name?”

“Alice.”

Joshua nodded, but frowned. “That doesn't ring a bell. But I swear I've seen her. So is she a friend of Sandy's or more than a friend?”

“She's Sandy's girlfriend.”

“Man, there are good-looking lesbians in West Virginia,” he said. “It's not fair.”

Joshua was headed for the bathroom when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Leanne.” It was Judy.

I didn't want to turn around and look at her, but knew that the sooner I did, the sooner it would be over. So I turned. “Judy,” I said, right back at her.

“I just wanted to say how sorry I am for all that's happened. I wish you'd think about continuing with the fan club.”

“I can't,” I told her.

She nodded. “And I'm sorry about our misunderstanding over Charlene,” she said.

“It wasn't a misunderstanding,” I told her.

“Okay,
my
misunderstanding,” she said.

“It wasn't a misunderstanding,” I told her again. “Like you said, it was priorities. Only I wish you'd told me that from the start.”

“Point taken,” Judy said. “I'm truly sorry for your family's loss.”

“Point taken,” I said, before excusing myself.

 

After the wake, there was the funeral itself, and after the funeral, some folks came back to our house to eat some of the food that the people of Pinecob kept bringing by. Lionel was there a while, and Scooter and Paulie and even Loreen dropped by to pay her respects. But Max stayed away. I didn't even see him leave the funeral.

By dark, just the core of us Gitlins remained, and we were all wretched tired anyhow, so I don't even know how it began. Susan was down in the basement putting the kids to bed, and Momma had already gone upstairs for the night. But I was there. As usual. And suddenly, Tommy and Vince were sniping at each other.

Tommy said something like, “What do you know, you've been God-knows-where for the past ten years. You let our mother go on thinking you were dead.”

And Vince said, “Like you couldn't have called and said something? Like you've been around?”

And Tommy said, “At least people knew I was alive.”

And Vince said, “You didn't even send Beau Ray a present for his thirtieth birthday.”

And Tommy said, “I have a job. I have a life I'm trying to keep together. He knew I cared.”

And Vince said, “Yeah, well, he knew I cared, too.”

And finally I told them both to shut up, just shut up, because there were kids trying to sleep downstairs and Momma trying to sleep upstairs and it hadn't exactly been an easy day for anyone. They looked up at me.

“Face it—neither of you were here. Neither of you have been around for years now. It doesn't make a lick of difference at this point. It's all sunk. You want to come back, come back. But only tomorrow and every day after that should matter when you think about it.”

“I was thinking maybe I'd come and stay a while,” Tommy said.

“I was planning on staying here,” Vince said.

“It's not like there isn't space,” I said. “Maybe one of you can take my room.”

 

I knew I had to talk to Momma about what I'd been thinking, so I caught her in the kitchen the next morning. We were the first two people up in a house crowded with family.

“It sort of feels like it used to,” Momma said. “Doesn't it? There's a huge hole, but around the hole, it feels a little bit the same.”

I could see that, and at the same time, I was afraid I was about to pull the hole larger still.

“You think Vince coming back is a gift from God?” I asked her. “Like Susan said?”

Momma shook her head. “I think it was time, like he says. I think he had to get past things his own way. He always did. I do miss your pa, but I can't say I'm sorry I wasn't doing the
driving. I'd hate to live life thinking I might have been able to stop that damn drunk.” Momma turned off the stove and looked hard at me. “You want to tell me something?”

“I don't know,” I said, which wasn't exactly true. “Tommy said he was thinking about coming to stay here awhile.”

Momma nodded. “He mentioned that. That son of mine could use a little solid ground.”

“And Vince,” I said. Momma kept on nodding. “That's two more people to take care of—”

“Leanne,” Momma said. “You're not a child no more, but I want you to listen to me all the same. You take care of
yourself.
We'll all get through this. All of us.”

“It's not like I was looking to go far.”

“Why not?” Momma asked. “Bill's poked at me about it over and over this summer and he's right. It hasn't been fair on you, me pressing you to hang back so long. You were always so good with your brother, with Beau.” Momma's eyes began to well.