🔵 By Tyler Bowman. Photo by lauragrafie.
Beverly awoke the next morning with blurry vision, her eyes caked with sleep. Blinking and squinting, an empty wine bottle materialized level with her gaze. She couldn’t feel her right arm, numb from having used it as a pillow. Her body sore from sleeping on the floor, she groaned as she sat up. The thin play rug hadn’t provided much in the way of cushioning. She expected to have to fight off a wave of nausea, but burped loudly instead. Surprisingly she felt well rested, the most sleep she had in days. Beverly was about to wipe away the crust from her eyes when she noticed dried bits of sauce and pasta smeared over her hands and fingers. Glancing down she saw that the lasagna dish – foil cover crumpled to one side, was emptier by about half. Greedy little fingers having carved trails along its bottom and sides. At least she made up some for having neglected her appetite, she thought. Her screen saver bounced around on the still open laptops beside her. Sing one of her cleaner fingers Bev tapped the mouse pad to wake the computer up. An image from Google Maps popped into view depicting streets and lot outlines. The highlighted address was indicated by a hovering icon. The address was not one she recognized. She didn’t remember searching Google Maps last night, then again,s he also couldn’t remember devouring the lasagna. The name Carrie Shepherd on the page caught her eye.
“Shepherd…” Beverly mumbled, then her eyes bulged as she realized what she was looking at. This was where the drug bust happened. This was Max’s home. Located on the East Side of Burlington, the Shepherd’s residence sat right at the edge of Smith Elementary’s school district. One more street over and Max would have attended a completely different school. Beverly shook her head. Ironically she planned on being over that way later today. Did she dare confront the kids’ mom? It probably sounded like a great idea when she was loaded. Now that she was rested, fed, and sober, well, she’d see how the day goes.
The day ahead was already not something Beverly was looking forward to. It’d been three days and Donnovan had let her know the coroner would be done and that arrangements needed to be made. Along with that daunting task, she needed to get her car serviced. Those brakes were likely to get her, or someone else, killed. She couldn’t deal with anymore death except maybe her own.
Bev closed her laptop and replaced the foil covering over the lasagna dish. Almost every joint in her body popped as she stood up. Her right arm still tingling with the return of blood flow. Deciding to leave everything where it was for the time being, she left her son’s room to go get cleaned up. The old wooden staircase groaned and creaked as the descended it. No matter how hard Jamie tried he could never sneak down them quietly enough. Sometimes when Beverly heard the tell-tell signs of him trying to be sneaky she would hide just around the corner at the bottom of the steps, jumping out to scare him right as he reached the bottom. Shrilling with laughter he’d stumble around and try to scramble back up as fast as he could. Beverly knew that it was a desperately insane thing to do, but when she reached the foyer at the bottom of the stairs, she peeped her head around the corner hoping to find Jamie hiding there. She laughed to herself. If he would have been there, then she too would have stumbled around and tried to scramble back up as fast as possible.
Stepping into the living room Beverly grabbed the remote and turned on the television, making absolutely sure that it wasn’t a news channel. She needed the noise, didn’t matter what it was, the house just didn’t need to be quiet, it made her feel alone. She went into her own bedroom and undressed, leaving the clothes on the floor where they fell. This time she wouldn’t rush to bathe and get ready. Instead she pulled out the bath oils and lavender candles. After filling the tub with warm water she eased on in and relaxed. Even though a few tears did manage to escape, the bath rejuvenated her body and focused her mind. Applying her make up, then after reapplying her mascara, she was ready to try and tackle another tough day.
The safest plan of action would be to get the brakes fixed first so that’s where she would start. Quickly locking the front door Beverly kept her head down while keeping track of her neighbor’s whereabouts through her peripherals. Throwing up a silent prayer she asked that God make the whole neighborhood leave her alone, besides, you owe me, she added angrily. The prayer must have worked because Beverly made it to her car and down the road without any interference. Slackening her shoulders she let out a deep breath of relief.
Going to the Honda dealership was simply out of the question, she couldn’t afford it. The little drive through mechanic shops were a no go as well, their style of operation just a little too sketchy for her taste. Her brakes needed fixing, if she went through hone of those places they’d probably tell her that the radiator had a leak and the battery needed replacing. No, she’d take her car to Mike’s. Tom always trusted him with their vehicles in the past, so she would, too. Beverly never met the man personally, but if her husband had done business with him, then he had to be okay. Plus, Mike’s Shop was conveniently located only a few blocks down from Thompson’s Funeral Home. She could drop off the car, then make the short walk over. Thompson’s had treated her well when Tom passed, she decided to trust them with her son. The car was suddenly too quiet, Bev switched on the radio to drown out her thoughts.
Mike’s lot was rather empty when she pulled in. oil stains dotted what was left of the concrete like a psychiatrist’s ink blot card. Large chunks were missing that created pot holes of oily rain water and God only knew what else. Beverly slowly weaved her way up to the front of the building. One of the three garage doors hung open, an enormous man in dark blue coveralls eyes her warily. The man narrowed his eyes at her as he flicked a cigarette out into a puddle before strolling on over. “I recognize this beaut. I’ve worked on her a few times.” The man lifted his hat and wiped greasy sweat from his forehead. “You must be Tom’s ole lady.” He was shaking his head, now. “Tom was a good man. Always talking about his wife and kid and all his big plans. Helluva guy, I miss ‘em.”
Beverly’s throat locked up. This was exactly the type of conversation she was really hoping to avoid. Quit being selfish, she chided herself. She noticed the name tag stitched to the front of the coveralls – Mike – they had been friends. From the sound of it they were closer than she assumed. She imagined this mammoth man grieving over Tom’s passing and it loosened the knot in her throat. Mike picked up on her unease. He turned an yelled back into the shop. “Jimmy, finish up on that belt. I’ll be in the office, but don’t come botherin’.” He reached out a huge paw and opened the driver’s side door. “Why don’t you come inside and I’ll put us on a cup of joe? You can tell me what alls goin’ on with ole Lucy here”, he patted the top of the car, “and we’ll get you right as rain in no time. Now how’s that sound?”
A strained laugh burst from Beverly’s lips. The back of her hands wiped at the corners of her eyes, coming away with black streaks of mascara. She nodded her head and thankfully was able to produce a whispered confirmation that his offer did in fact sound good. Mike lead the way inside. A small bell above the door caught the attention of an elderly woman hunched over a desktop computer in the far right corner of the waiting room. When she saw Mike there, her eyes quickly shifted back to the computer’s screen.
“It’s okay Sally, I’ve got this one,” Mike said.
“Good, because this Sudoku is timed,” she said back, distracted.
Mike grinned down at Beverly and rolled his eyes. “Mother-in-law”, he mouthed.
Plastic chairs lined the perimeter of the waiting room, two flat screens hung from the walls, and an old drink machine emitting a low hum sat near the entrance. Beverly was surprised to see how clean it was given the shop’s curbside appearance. They walked to the back and entered into an office, Mike closing the door behind them, but not before sticking his tongue out at Sally. There was a soft thud against the office door just after it closed.
Old parts catalogs were in knee high piles up against the walls. A large stain on the carpeted floor commanded most of Bev’s attention, however, the multiple out-dated hotrod calendars were a close second and a poor attempt at any kind of interior decorating. Mike gracefully tip-toed around a strey transmission laying beside his desk, then added grounds to a generic coffee pot sitting on top of a piece of plywood that was balance on top of an engine block.
“Please, have a seat.” Mike motioned towards a pair of folding lawn chairs positioned in front of his desk. Beverly chose the one she thought least likely to collapse. The coffee pot started to gurgle. Mike’s rolling pleather office chair groaned as it flexed to accommodate his bulk. He leaned forward, clasping his hands on top of the desk and eyed her with a very genuine, caring look. With a smile, “Want to tell me about your car?”
Beverly nodded her head and cleared her throat. “The brakes are shot. There can’t be much left to them. I’ve been too busy and have ignored them for some time and they’ve… gotten dangerous.”
“Yea,” Mike laughed. “I heard them when you pulled in. anything else you’d like us to take a look at while it’s here?”
“I really don’t have the money to get a full service done, Mike. The brakes are just an immediate issue.”
She kept her eyes on the desk, unable to meet his gaze.
She heard him get up, then slide a mug over in front of her. “Cream or sugar?”, he asked.
Beverly picked up the coffee and held it close to her chest. “No,thank you.”
After a brief moment she blew on it and tried a tiny sip, then set it back down.
“I have to run down to Thompson’s. Is it okay to leave my car here while you work on it until I get back?”
Mike’s face scrunched in confusion. “Of course, but the funeral home?” He scratched his head through his cap.
Oh my God, he didn’t know. Beverly was stunned. How could he not know? Everyone should know. Know of this tragedy that happened. Her little boy dying for no reason. Everyone should know!
A croak escaped her. Her face paled. She had to tell him. Stalling, she tried another sip of coffee. Still too hot.
“Jamie – my son – he passed away a few days ago. Mur- murdered at school.” A hand shot to her mouth.
Mike all but fell out of his chair. “Murdered? Holy shit! Please excuse my language, but Jesus I hadn’t heard. You know, busy in the shop and all. Jesus Christ. I don’t know what to say, Beverly. Are you okay? No, of course you’re not…” He stammered on just a little longer before trailing off. Beverly surprised him when she abruptly stood up.
“Thank you. I shouldn’t be gone longer than an hour.”
The big man jumped out of his own seat. He quickly opened a desk drawer, then fumbled around inside.
“Wait! Here, I’ve got a couple of spare cars laying around.” He tossed her a key. “Please, take that one. You don’t need to be walking anywhere. Matter of fact, I can take you myself if you’d like?”
“No, no it’s fine. I don’t mind walk-” Mike cut her off with a raised hand.
“Look, the car is a beater so don’t worry about damaging it. Allow me this courtesy, please.”
She smiled at him and understood why Tom had liked the man. “Okay, I’ll take the car. Thank you. But I need you here getting my car fixed,” she laughed.
He was glad to see her laugh and let boom a good natured laugh himself.
“You’ve got it. We’ll get you taken care of. Take your time.”
Beverly opened the office door.
“And Beverly?” Mike added.
She turned to face him.
“Yes?”
“Next time you visit Tom, you know, can you tell him I said hey?”