Redeem Me (6 page)

“What are you going to eat for dinner?”

“I’ve been eating just fine for years without anybody’s help.”

I take a deep breath and let Butch maintain his control. He is a grown man, after all. He doesn’t need me to feed him. I think.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at nine-thirty. I’ll lock up behind me and take the keys. That way you won’t have to get up to let me in tomorrow.”

He starts to sputter and stammer as I rush out the door and walk down the farm lane.

My head rests on Jason’s stomach as we lie in the center of the field. He’s caressing my arm, back and forth, as I watch the clouds float by. I hear a voice calling, “Annie, Annie.”

I know it’s Mrs. Leer because she and Jason were the only people who ever called me Annie. It was left over from the year Mrs. Leer was my Sunday school teacher and my mom was experimenting with the name. She decided against it, but it stuck with the Leers.

“Annie, Jesus loves you,” she calls to me again, but I can’t see her.

I sit up and she’s standing right in front of me. Mrs. Leer looks as pretty as she did before the cancer. She has on a long denim skirt with a blue sweater that makes her eyes sparkle against her jet-black hair. She takes my hand and pulls me into a big hug. She smells of the same kiwi shampoo Jason always smells of and I inhale it deeply.

“Put on therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long suffering.” Mrs. Leer quotes Scripture to no one in particular.

She holds me at arm’s length. “Annie, promise me you’ll always take care of my boys. Please promise me.”

“I will. I promise.”

I turn around, and Butch is standing next to Jason, who’s holding a baby in a blue outfit. Stephanie’s standing on the other side of him.

“Remember your promise,” Mrs. Leer says as she walks away.

“No! No! Please don’t go. Come back,” I yell as I begin to cry. “I can’t help them. Please!”

I wake up sobbing, clutching my pillow. I want to call Jason. I want to tell him I dreamed of his mother. He’d want to know. He’d want to know I’ve dreamed of her. He’d want to know that someone else is missing her.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The world moves forward. From the minute my loved ones left my parents’ funeral, they slipped back into their lives, their obligations, their daily routines, their things to be excited about. But everything stopped for me. Jason would want to know that someone else still dreams of his mother.

C
an you help me with something tomorrow?” I ask Sean hesitantly.

“Sure, what?” The worry in his voice is obvious even through the cell phone.

“Can you meet me at Butch Leer’s house at nine thirty? I’m having a cleaning crew out of Mullica Hill come to his house and overhaul it while I take him to the doctor’s.”

Silence.

“Sean?”

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re taking Butch to the doctor’s…and having his house cleaned?” Sean’s tone reinforces the absurdity of the statements.

“Yes. Look, he’s in a bad place and needs some help.”

“Are you sure you’re the best person to help him?” His voice is full of fear.

“Oh, I’m far from the best person, but I’m the only person,” I admit, hoping to ease Sean’s angst.

“All right. What time?”

“Nine thirty and thanks a lot. Oh, and one more thing. If you run into Noble, don’t give him any information.”

“That’s right; I forgot Butch lives on the Sinclair farm. Why are you hiding from Nick Sinclair?”

“I’m not.”

Sean doesn’t ask any more questions. It’s part of his charm.

In an effort to psych myself up for a day with Butch, I blare patriotic music through my car speakers on the drive to his house. I’m sure he’ll be much sweeter today. I continue belting out the lyrics. My stomach flutters from nerves and I put the song on repeat.

The drought has worsened and dust from the Sinclair lane swirls around my car as I drive the length of it. Instead of picking up Butch, I want to drive right past his house and go into Noble’s. Go in, pull a beer out of the refrigerator, and plop on his couch the same way he used to when he’d come to my house at Rutgers. But that was a thousand years ago, and Noble talks to Jason. If Jason can’t find me, Noble will be the first person he reaches out to for help. He may not have liked our friendship, but he knew what Noble meant to me.
He knew everything.

I again pull up close to the door so Butch won’t have to walk far. The cleaning crew speaks Russian, which Butch will kill me for if he finds out, and they’ll be here at ten. Thank God for Sean. I couldn’t pull this off without him.

Sean’s truck is already parked by the tree and he gets out as I park.

“Didn’t want to wake the bear?” I ask, smiling.

“You know I think you might be insane,” he says.

“I know. I’m a little concerned myself. Can you help me get him into the car?” This is completely insane and I should be committed, but it’s refreshing to smile, to laugh with Sean. Even if it’s for the benefit of the crustiest bastard in town, it’s good to feel alive again, to have a purpose outside of self-loathing.

We walk up to the door and I again fumble through the keys to find the right one. Sean is shocked.

“You have keys to Butch Leer’s house?”

“Just temporarily. He hurt his knee pretty bad yesterday, and I didn’t want him to have to get up to let me in today.”

Sean nods his head in exaggerated understanding. “Of course.”

“Brace yourself,” I say as I get the last lock on the inside shed door. I brace myself, too, as I turn away from Sean and walk into the house.

Butch is at the kitchen table, looking as gruff as he did yesterday. He has a shoebox in front of him and a different shirt on than when I left him. This one is a blue and red button-down; he’s dressed up for the doctor.

“Butch, do you remember my brother Sean?”

Sean walks over and shakes his hand. “Hi, Butch.”

“He’s going to stay here with the cleaning crew and make sure they just clean.”

Butch nods. This is going well.

“You ready to go?”

“Do I have a goddamned choice?”

I sigh at his nastiness and wonder how long it took to harden after sorrow abandoned him. “No, I’m afraid you don’t.”

Sean looks at me again, silently asking what the hell I’m doing, but I don’t respond. “Sean, we’re going to need your help to get Butch to the car.”

Sean takes one side of Butch and we raise him to his feet. He’s able to walk using his cane and leaning heavily on Sean as I open the doors in front of us.

“My box. Get my damn box,” Butch barks, and I grab the box containing God knows what. Sean eases Butch into my Volvo. It’s an SUV and higher than Butch’s car. I hope it’s easier to get out of. Sean closes the car door and walks me around to the driver’s side.

“How the hell are you going to get him into the doctor’s office alone?” Sean asks.

“I have Grandmom’s wheelchair in the back.”

“Good luck with that.” Sean and I look back at Butch staring out the car window, his scowl firmly in place. “You, Charlotte, are going to have a very bad day.”

“Just stay here and make sure they don’t steal anything. Have them stack any papers neatly and help them figure out what’s trash, recyclable, and so on. Here’s cash for the balance.” I hand Sean five hundred dollars. “I think it’s going to be between three and four hundred, but I wanted to make sure you had enough.”

“Geez! Maybe I should give up physical therapy and start cleaning houses.”

“You haven’t seen the whole place,” I whisper.

Butch and I ride silently to Dr. Grubb’s office. I park in the back and feel relief at the sight of a ramp rising up to the back door. I hop out of the Volvo as Butch tries to turn himself around and place his legs outside the car. I pull the wheelchair out of the back, open it, and wheel it up to him as if we’ve used it a hundred times.

“What the hell is that?” he yells at me.

“Why, it’s a wheelchair, of course,” I say, keeping the smile glued to my lips.

“You’re out of your goddamned head if you think I’m getting in that thing.”

“I am out of my goddamned head. Now get in the goddamned chair before you fall again and end up in some rehab facility with a hairless man named Rex giving you a bath every day,” I say, and wait.

Butch’s face turns from anger to disgust and finally to resignation. “How the hell do I get in it?” he asks, not hiding his frustration.

“We’ll get you standing the same way we did last night; then you’ll turn around and sit right into it.”

Butch looks at me like that’s the stupidest idea he’s ever heard, so I know it’s okay to move forward. I hook my leg around the door to steady it and hunch over to help support him under the arm. As he rises, he wobbles but uses the door to steady himself. When I’m sure he’s stable, I move the door and pull the wheelchair over. This is exactly the way we used to transport my grandmother the last ten years before she died. Butch turns around and drops into the chair and I exhale, relieved. I bend down, open the foot flaps, and help him lift his left leg into it. His face contorts in pain. I hope the rehab facility was a threat rather than a prediction.

It’s been a while since I’ve pushed a wheelchair and Butch is heavier than my grandmother was. I manage to only bang him into the railing and the doorway on the way into the doctor’s office. He’s mumbling the whole way and I catch, “stupid goddamned…no one asked you for any help…horseshit idea.”

“Good afternoon, Butch,” the receptionist says sweetly, not taking her eyes off me.

“Hello,” I say as I wheel Butch over next to the couch in the waiting room and take a seat with a magazine to minus myself from the equation.

Dr. Grubb himself comes to the door. “Butch, you can come on back.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask, wheeling Butch toward the doctor.

He turns around in the chair to face me in disbelief. “Are you out of your chicken-shit head?”

“Yes,” I say without any emotion, and push the chair through the doorway. “I’ll be out here if you need anything,” I say sweetly to Dr. Grubb.

While Butch is in the doctor’s office, I text Sean.

How’s it going?

MAN, I HAD NO IDEA BUTCH WAS IN SUCH BAD SHAPE.

Really bad?

IT’S GOOD YOU TOOK

HIM TO THE DOCTOR’S. THERE’S

TONS OF STUFF IN HIS ROOM HE’S

MAIL-ORDERED TO SELF-MEDICATE

DIFFERENT AILMENTS.

Oh

DOESN’T HE HAVE ANY OTHER FAMILY?

I try to remember if Jason ever mentioned any other relatives. I know his aunt Rita was his mother’s sister, but I never heard of anyone else. Aunt Rita lives in Pennsylvania somewhere.

I don’t think so

…is all I can respond.

“Charlotte, would you mind coming back for a moment?” Dr. Grubb asks.

I put away my phone and follow Dr. Grubb back to the examination room. Butch is seated in the wheelchair. His sunny disposition is still intact.

“Butch has several prescriptions that need to be filled. Would you be able to pick them up if we call them in for him?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’d also like you to pick up a knee brace. Here.” He hands me a piece of paper. “I’ve written the style down. You can try the drugstore, but you might have better luck online.”

I read the paper, making sure I can decipher Dr. Grubb’s writing.

“And finally, Butch is slightly malnourished. He’s going to need to be much more deliberate about a balanced diet.”

“Of course,” I say as I try to digest all the information. Poor Butch.

My luck improves when an old friend agrees to help with Butch. Marie’s more of an angel than an old friend. She and another woman split twelve-hour shifts sitting with my grandmother when she came to my parents’ house for hospice care. They helped bathe her and made sure she was comfortable. Now Marie will help Butch with some cooking and light cleaning. I think it’ll be good for him to have some company, but I’d never mention that to Butch. It was hard enough getting him to accept Marie’s help. I put whole milk and extra-large eggs in my shopping cart before moving down the aisle to the bread. Once Marie’s been in there a few days, she’ll be able to tell me what groceries Butch needs and what foods he likes to eat, but for now I’m just grabbing some staples.

I hit the fruit-and-vegetables aisle hard and add in some canned fruit and frozen vegetables. I need to check if Butch has a microwave. This would be easier if I could talk to Jason. I’m sure he knows the answers to all my questions. Does Jason know how Butch has been living? Does he care?

I stop in the bakery and select some sticky buns. One with nuts and one without. My grandmother used to love these. Butch is a lot younger, but he reminds me of her. When he’s not killing me with Jason’s voice. Thank God he never says a kind word. With that voice it might push me over the edge.

I take my time checking out and loading my car. If I time this right, I can avoid running into Noble at lunch. About a mile before I get to the Sinclair farm, I see a small group of men and machinery working in a field. I can’t make out faces, but Noble’s truck is there. I pull down the lane and park next to Marie’s car. As I put my key in the final lock and open the door, I think I catch the sound of laughter winding down, but that’s impossible.

Marie greets me with a maternal look and grabs a bag from around my wrist. Butch is seated at the kitchen table, and although he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t regard me with hatred either. An awkward silence falls over the room. Marie announces she’s going to get the mail.

“So, how’s it going?” I ask.

“How’s it supposed to be going?” Butch says, but it lacks the usual nastiness. I resist the urge to close my eyes and take deep breaths at the sound of his voice.

It’s Butch, not Jason.

“Do you like Marie? Is she helpful?” I try again.

“Yeah, she’s helpful, but I don’t need help.”

I raise my hand to stop him. I’m not going to have, for the thousandth time, the conversation about how he was doing just fine before I brought him home from church.

“Well, you agreed Marie can come Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a few weeks. At least until you’re feeling better.”

“I know. Who the hell is paying her?” His anger is returning.

“Let me worry about that for now.”

Butch looks at me like he’s going to kill me.

“I’m looking into using insurance to pay. I’ll keep you posted,” I say, and put the subject to rest for at least a few days. I finish unpacking the groceries and floret the watermelon. Marie would do it, but I’m not ready to leave Butch and we seem to do better with a task, rather than silence.

“Are you feeling any better?” Butch just looks at me. “I mean since you started taking the medicine Dr. Grubb prescribed.”

“I guess I am,” Butch says almost kindly, and I realize it’s a great time to leave.

“Listen, do you think we can keep my visits just between us?”

Butch is confused.

“I’m not asking you to lie to anyone, I just…well, I just haven’t told people where I’m living now and I’m…I’m just not ready to talk to everyone yet.” My eyes roam around the room avoiding Butch. When I do look at him, he’s almost sympathetic.

“Believe me, I’m not going around bragging about this.”

“Okay,” I say, and exhale. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Butch says as he swats his hand through the air.

Maybe someday I’ll come see him without sighing when I leave. It’s a feeling of surviving or escaping something.

I only lock the handle on the outside door since I’ve surrendered my keys to Marie. As I turn around, I hear a strangled chirp that is frantically repeated. I follow the sound to a bird huddled in the grass. It squawks and squawks its tortured little cry but never flies. The bird is plump with light blue feathers, and I consider for a moment she might be pregnant. I look the little bluebird right in the eye and it never flinches. I turn around to search for a nest and see a cat crouched in the bushes, ready to pounce. I look from the bird to the cat and walk to my car and leave.

The first day of fall is as sultry as July. Even though the sun’s lost some of its intensity, my skin’s hot and a bead of sweat slides down the side of my face as the truck pulls up to the side of the house and stops. A small blue feather catches my eye in the grass, and I push it aside. How long has it been since I’ve seen Noble? It feels like forever, and yet the time’s not exactly flying by. It’s been weeks.