wilder

Tommy chuckled & looked at the floor, immediately feeling bad for laughing at such a dark joke, but the sentiment stood. The majority of his patients in Wheeler were more likely to send their kids to conversion therapy than to follow his advice. Letting out a long sigh, he was quickly met with yet another reason to let out a despondent breath in the form of it being implied that he was a stalker. “I’ll just assume it’s vanity plate so I can hate you more.” He said flatly. Her car’s lights lit up his own vehicle parked in the next row. “Well,” Tommy swung his bag. 

“I’d apologize for accosting you, but that’d probably just add fuel to the fire so I’ll just goodnight.” He reached into his pocket for his key fob, splitting off from Irene to walk towards his car as it started. “Thanks for the hotline.” He said, waving his hand over his shoulder before pulling open the door & tossing his purchase into the passenger seat.

“Does that mean you hate me now?” Seemed like it. Not that Irene could blame him, though she did feel a modicum of pride take root in her chest at the idea. He wouldn’t have been the first person to hate her as soon as she opened her mouth, but he would’ve been among the fair few who managed to pull it off without being related to one of her pupils. At least she hadn’t grown dull over the years. Since he seemed content to take his leave, Irene parked her cart at the backseat of her car and started the process of unpacking her groceries. “You’re more than welcome. Hopefully things go better there than they did with Tia. Goodnight, Goodnight.”

That’s really where it should have ended, with her leaving her cart with it’s brethren and heading back to her car without a second thought. She should’ve driven home, fed the cats, and thrown on some overproduced crime documentary to wind down after a particularly brutal day. Instead, she turned the key in the ignition and was met with the engine turning over... and over... and over. Once, twice, three times she tried to coax her car to life before she gave herself to the futility of the action, sitting instead with her car’s lights beaming into an empty parking lot overlooking the main road.

Tommy considered that, nodding his head. “Yeah, she fucking hated both of us. An equal opportunist in terms of loathing every customer. – I can respect that.” Looking back over his shoulder as the doors slid apart, Tommy grimaced. “I didn’t even notice her.” He admitted, facing forward again as they walked into the sparse parking lot. Each car in the lot was parked in a different pool of light from the yellow bulbs hanging over the lot. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m probably already on that list for administering vaccines.” He said gravely. 

“She probably wanted to be there as much as we did.” Less, even, considering that Irene couldn’t fathom a reality in which the girl was being paid more than minimum wage. Add a continuous line of chatty customers to the mix and it was no wonder Tia didn’t have any plastered-on excitement for two people who had to be ushered out of the store by an announcement over the PA system. “You’re definitely on some kind of prayer list. If God wants someone to get measles, then they just will. Who can interfere with that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of accosting anyone, but you’ve managed to do it twice.“ His phone vibrated in his pocket but he didn’t move to get to it. He flashed Tiff Tia a friendly smile, the sort he used when he was uncomfortable but Tiff didn’t even bother to serve one back. “Sorry about that, Tia.” She just chewed & looked at Irene to insert her card or fork over the cash. Tommy clamped his teeth together looking awkwardly to Irene though she’d be no help. Naturally, he was served with another barb. This one was spot on though & Tommy’s eye nearly twitched. Luckily, Tia didn’t find that one funny. Nor did she seem even mildly entertained by Tommy’s discomfort at being skewered so thoroughly. “This appears to be a lose lose.“ Tommy said, casting his gaze sideways to Irene before inserting his card only to be snapped at to take it back out. “Oops.“ He murmured, waiting until she told him to insert this time only to be met with more impatience. He was realizing he didn’t care much for Tia as he took the brown plastic sack & his receipt. “Goddamn,” He muttered to Irene as he moved towards the exit. “Did I accost her too? Because I feel like she either wanted me to drop dead or key my car. She didn’t like you either though.” He tacked on the last bit to drag her down as well since he was evidently already sinking. How fickle that one small victory had been. 

There was a comment laying somewhere in the back of Irene’s throat about Tommy’s inability to pay for toothpaste, but she managed to swallow it down behind a painted-on grin. Tiff-Tia had thoroughly embarrassed him, and even Irene considered herself better than kicking a man while he was down. There wasn’t a grave deeper than the one Tommy had dug for himself, anyway.

It was the question of whether he had accosted yet another unsuspecting woman that finally got Irene to break. “I don’t think she was particularly fond of either of us.”

“You’re too kind,“ Tommy said, syrupy, as he stepped along with the belt. “That’ll be 806-322-3599.” Tommy rattled the numbers off, peeking over at her phone, slightly impressed with himself & completely unaware that Irene was not only an asshole, but also an awful person. “Cheap burner huh? That’s not weird as all. Definitely not a red flag, huh?” Tommy said, throwing the question to the cashier who wasn’t paying them any mind. “Yeah.” The girl said, popping her gum. Her name-tag said Tiff, or at least that was what Tommy imagined it was supposed to say since the majority of it was covered in random stickers of cartoon characters save for the T & I that had managed to come out unscathed. “Tiff gets it.”

No sooner had he given her the number than had Irene sent him the text, thinking nothing of it while the cashier rang up her goods. “I keep it just in case men accost me at grocery stores. You never know who’s going to try to be clever to get your number.” Another joke, another failed landing. Irene seemed unaware, blissfully so, as she transitioned bags to her cart and half-listened to Tommy’s attempt to chat up the cashier. A cashier who, by Irene’s determination, could not have been less impressed with the two of them.

“Ouch. That must’ve hurt. He sure was fond of that backyard.“ Tommy sucked his teeth. “Ha!” He had no intention of breaking that particular streak by finally folding. 

Tommy set his toothpaste on the very end of the conveyer to separate it from Irene’s things without using the divider. He looked down at it sadly with the suggestion that he was sociopath. All he could manage was a shrug. Perhaps, but dental hygiene prevailed over appearances in grocery stores. “Why lonely?” Tommy looked up, confusion knitted into his brow. “Well.” Tommy frowned, looking mildly put out. The conveyer belt slid their items closer to the dead-eyed cashier. “So could you text me that number?” Tommy asked, suggesting she had it on hand.

“He was fond of that backyard, but it’s mine now.” At least she finally had the space to start a decent garden after eviscerating her ex-husband’s above ground pool and tragic-looking jacuzzi. Never once had she missed looking out the kitchen window to see a gathering of paunchy, middle-aged men debating how to grill a bratwurst over cheap beers. “I like to think I’ve improved upon it.”

“That checks out.” Tommy said with a knowing smile. According to Richard, Irene was quite the ball & chain, but the doctor had never bought it. Just from looking at his chart, Tommy had known from his first visit that Richard was full of shit but far be it for him to judge. 

Nearly everyone gave some sort of white lie when posed with the most basic of questions. How often do you drink? Do you smoke? Taken drugs? In the grand scheme of things it never seemed to effect anything other than one’s own modesty. “I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or not.” Tommy said, raising a brow. “Tough guy to dodge. I can see you’re torn up about the split.” He commented, raising his paste as she posed the circumstance. “All I came for actually.” He said, wiggling the box as they stepped up into the short line at the front of the store. His eyes bulged sarcastically at the statement. Wheeler was suffering, of course, but it had evidently always been repressed. “It’s frightening out there, Irene. It’s dark. For one. & who knows what lurks in the shadows. Could be kids vandalizing something. Plus, if you’re trying to buy toiletries after sunset it’s pretty clear you’re a deviant hellion. Best not take the chance.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely devastated about the divorce. Some days I still hope he walks through the door to start over.” Fat fucking chance. If her ex husband ever stepped foot on her property, she’d be more likely to call the police on sight. The last contact they’d had was at his attorney’s office, once the paperwork was signed and they had gone their separate ways. The few drunk texts he had sent her were swiftly deleted and his number had been blocked thereafter. As far as Irene was concerned, Richard was a dead man. “Give him my regards next time you two have a barbecue at his apartment.”

While Tommy cracked jokes, Irene kept her gaze steadily fixed on the groceries of the person two steps ahead of them. Who on earth could possibly need so many Hungry Man meals? If she wouldn’t have been overheard, she might’ve drawn the doctor’s attention to it. Instead, she had to tuck away a grin at the idea of children vandalizing the streets of Wheeler at the modest hour of 9 PM. “You’re right. Things are going up in smoke all over the place. How could I forget?” A sense of detachment still prevailed around the whole situation, though she was given pause as her gaze drifted over a headline in a local paper. Cassie Kline, one year later. If it wouldn’t have looked blatantly morbid, she might’ve slid the article into her cart. Instead, she settled for stacking her goods neatly on the threadbare conveyor.

Hiten hadn’t offered Bobby’s number, thought about it for just a moment, then shrugged and read it out loud anyway. Just extending the first name of both individuals, because while they weren’t sure if Irene was local or not, they didn’t want to put Bobby in the position just because of his last name. It wasn’t a problem they shared, despite how much their mother had wanted them to, Hiten had kept their own name. their father’s name was perhaps the only thing they had left. 

“You can call Theo any time that’s convenient, he never stops. Also, he will do anything to make a sale to people he doesn’t know, so I suggest you take advantage of that,” Hiten noted. “Also, if he asks, tell him you got his number from someone random in town, because I can never do a good thing for him without ending up with food on my porch that I don’t even eat,” they added. They nodded at the dishwasher problem, not their best field, but they had helped enough people around the Trailer Park to know something about appliances, not to mention the countless times that Hiten had gone along with Bobby to fix things. They didn’t think they would be as good ever, but they liked to try at least. “Doesn’t sound like a huge problem, I could come by and fix it,” they suggested. They would need to hear the sound though, they always felt a lot could be determined just by the sound of something. 

Hiten saw she was about to produce the money, and got out their wallet to pay her back the difference, a fifty bill was handed to them, together with the suggestion that they should keep the change. Now, as much as Hiten loved money as a way to cover their bills, that was as far as their love for it went. “Not to kill your kindness, but I can’t take that,” they said, producing two twenties as they took the fifty. “I only worked for what… fifteen minutes, so that’s ten dollars.” They handed back the two twenties. “And a got I bottle of water.” 

By the time Irene was halfway through the number, her phone had already populated the remaining digits. Bobby Kline. She went through the motions of adding the rest of the number, tapping precisely as if it mattered in the slightest, and pocketed her phone directly after adding the next contact. So Bobby had a step-sibling. It was news to Irene, though she wasn’t sure if it should have been. Maybe that little piece of trivia had been lost amongst all the lack of communication between herself and the patriarch of the Kline family. Who could really say?

“I’ll make sure not to let it slip that you gave me his number. I appreciate it.” And she did, although she seemed rather unenthusiastic in all of her grim posturing. The dishwasher, however, was enough to pique her interest. “I can give you my address if you wouldn’t mind coming by to give it a look. It doesn’t seem to be leaking, but the noise... It’s a bit much.” The rattling, too, but they’d soon learn that for themselves.

While she originally expected that Hiten would take the money without much complaint, Irene was given pause when more than half her cash was handed back. It could’ve been considered insulting coming from anyone else, but they seemed genuine in their attempt to be fair. “A bottle f water doesn’t cost that much,’ she noted, though she accepted the cash and tucked it away in the same pocket where her phone had come to rest. “If you end up fixing my dish washer, you’ll end up with it anyway. But I can hang onto it for now. When would be a convenient time for you to come take a look at it?”

“People keep asking me that. I do miss her, but it’s been twenty years; it doesn’t hurt nearly as much now. You can miss someone without marching to their grave every Sunday after church.”

For as long as she’s been able to write, Marion’s kept diaries. In the back of her closet she’s got notebook upon notebook full of thoughts she’d rather not remember but can’t bear to part with. 

If she were to crack any of them open she knows she’d find long, detailed fantasies about all the ways she’d like to have destroyed Wheeler High School with at least half her classmates inside. She’d been so full of anger then; bent on some kind of revenge. 

She thinks about that as she clicks down the hall; trying to decide if she’d hated the building more then or now. As she approaches Irene’s classroom she determines that she doesn’t hate it now. There’s a different word for what she feels. She’ll just have to spend some time thinking of what it is. 

Sidling in silently, she leans her shoulder on the doorjamb. Waiting for permission to enter. “I just wanted to make sure that you’d made it through the week,” If Irene ever feels guilty for making light of the town’s tragedy it doesn’t show. Marion feels guilty for all her spite, all her anger, all her flippant jokes. Even still, she finds herself unable to keep from smiling and saying, “Long as I know it wasn’t you or Dad, I don’t have much to worry about.” 

It’s a little exciting, isn’t it? She thinks of saying but isn’t sure who else is lurking out in the hall and so she refrains. “They’re forcing me to 186.” Comes out as a whine as she finally comes all the way in the room to lean on one of the desks; butt on the edge, hands behind her. “I think he’s punishing me for ignoring his banned book list. Next year they’ll move me into the basement. You’re 112 now? You’ll have two windows.” 

“Oh, I made it. Good to see you have too.” Marion was interesting in that Irene never felt the need to don the performative mask of a concerned citizen when tragedy struck the town. There had been a period of mourning, of course -- - a period of telling students to go home straight after class, not to linger around the Gas N’ Dash or loiter about downtown - -- but once the veneer of fear had worn off, Irene had settled neatly into the chaos. She swathed herself in perceived indifference, though she was careful to keep up with stories about Cassie in the paper, no matter how few and far between they became. Marion, too, seemed more sensible about the whole thing; she could at least tell a decent joke about a corpse in a church. “I’m still here, and I’ve got all my teeth.” A smile, a flash of dimples and then something a bit softer; even Irene wasn’t above quietly recognizing that a situation was perturbing and, for lack of a better phrase, utterly fucked up.

Tommy smirked, shaking his head. “Not quite. I mean – it’s perfunctory really, but if you’re intent on robbing me of putting gas in my boat I guess I can’t be too mad.” As he leaned over his cart to grab the single tube of toothpaste, he chuckled. “Did I?-“ He was interrupted suddenly by a somber voice over the store’s PA system as it hummed to life, but when no one spoke, Tommy began again. “I’m afraid-” 

“The store will be closing in ten minutes. Please take your –” 

Tommy stared & when no one continued he opened his mouth to speak. “Actually no-”

“–merchandise to the registers.“ 

Tommy looked up, shooting a glare at the ceiling where the sound had issued from. “Goddamn.“ He’d gotten used to the citizens of Wheeler casting a quick & ugly stare at him for taking the Lord’s name, but it didn’t seem to phase him other than a slight pause as he blinked. “No, I’m afraid not. That did always kind of weird me out actually. Not many friends or was I really just a MVP?“ Tommy asked. “Shall we?“ He asked, pointing with the paste towards the front of the store before beginning to walk.

Irene had a boat once -- - her husband did, anyway. Some shitty little houseboat, from what she could figure, but she could distinctly remember her husband gathering up with his buddies to fish and get belligerently drunk on the dock. She could imagine, perhaps with too much glee, that he had invited Tommy “sailing” countless times, as if that was the purpose of the boat that bobbed idly on their spot at the marina. For all she knew, he was probably still asking.

While Tommy waged a war against the PA system, Irene finished grabbing what she needed in terms of essentials. Only in Wheeler would a grocery store close at nine o’clock, as if the whole town was afraid of the blanket of nightfall.  Then again, who could blame them?

“I wouldn’t let him keep friends.” That’s what she had been told, anyway. “But he had enough that he shouldn’t have been harassing his doctor to hang out on weekends.” She’d never understood the appeal, to be honest; why waste one’s time being rejected over and over again?

Upon being pointed in the general direction of the registers, Irene breezed past Tommy without so much as cursory acknowledgement. ‘I don’t think we’ve got much of a choice. Hopefully you weren’t looking for more than toothpaste.” He’d be shit out of luck until morning.

“I think about getting in touch with my dad sometimes, but I wouldn’t know where to start. Last I heard, he’s married and living somewhere in Ohio. I do have a FaceBook, so he’s free to look for me. As for Angela, she’ll get in touch when she needs money.”

“It’s been twenty years ago, but... I had a summer job at the end of my junior year. I thought I’d save up for a car, or... something, I don’t know. In the end, I bought new clothes and school supplies. On the very first week of school, someone stole my backpack and everything in it. I had to use the rest of my money to pay for the books that were missing. I always thought this little bitch named Lexi took them for fun. Incidentally, she was the worst girl to deal with. I think she may be married to someone on the city council now.”

“Well, I would say. I grew up with Marion and her brother, although... I’m not sure I can say I know her brother. Or even knew him, really. It made sense that I’d move out of Wheeler, but I didn’t expect him to... Well, leave.”

“I had a student who lit my hall pass on fire while trying to smoke in the boy’s restroom. Either that one or the one that grabbed my ass while I was being observed during clinicals. I don’t set a high bar for young boys anymore.”

“I like to think think forty one is a little too old to be kissing and telling, wouldn’t you?”

“That would depend on the smell. If it’s decomposing from the inside out, I’m afraid I’d have to pass. But, no, I like to leave food on the back porch for them. I try to leave them alone, but Oscar is an exception. I’ve fattened him up too much for him to catch his own food, so now I’m responsible for keeping him alive.”

“I don’t remember that part.“ Tommy said, bewildered. Then again, he wasn’t surprised. The only thing he’d seen were the commercials for the film adaptation & he could only distinctly remember wondering what the hell Russell Crowe was doing with his career. “How’ve you been, Irene?“ Tommy asks, realizing he would’ve started with question had the circumstances been different. “It’s been a while.“ He’d know Irene Wilder first by name only. Her ex-husband was his patient & he’d always had a lot to say about his then wife. He’d seen that divorce coming from a mile away, but he didn’t quite like the man & spent the majority of his visits to the office rebuffing the other man’s invitations to barbecues & sports bars. Of course when he met Irene it hadn’t clicked immediately that she’d been his wife. Hell, the way he talked about her she should’ve looked like Rosie O’donnell & only communicated in screeches in between being a full-time lech & part-time molder of young minds. The truth couldn’t have been a further departure from the picture he’d painted, at least in two of the four ways. 

“Anne Hathaway. The song when her hair ends up being cut in real life. Such a performer.” Irene couldn’t have been less impressed as she selected a roll of dental floss. Maybe if they had cast more than four people who could sing, she would’ve enjoyed the film. Instead, she had watched it and wondered the entire time why Wolverine and A Beautiful Mind were chasing one another across France. Rubbish.