Leftovers: A Novel (7 page)

With South Church on her left Vivian reached the crest of the hill and then coasted into the center of town. She passed by the Abbot Movie House oblivious to the marquee, which now advertised:

A STAR IS BORN
starring
JUDY GARLAND
and
JAMES MASON
 
Coming Next
 
WHITE CHRISTMAS
starring
BING CROSBY
and
ROSEMARY CLOONEY

She traveled down to the west end of Main Street where Sutherland’s Department Store was located and tried to park the Buick in no more than two parking spaces.

Inside, she grabbed a shopping cart and slowly walked up and down the aisles of the expansive store. She picked up various inexpensive items such as toothpaste and shampoo. Several light bulbs had blown out pitching lamps at Paul and she was just now getting around to replacing them. And in the clothing section, she chose a gray cable knit cardigan. She slipped it on and although it was a size too big, she tossed it into her basket. The furnace had been acting up, shutting off when it shouldn’t be, and the house was getting cold so she picked up a simple blanket to keep her warm on the sofa at night and worked her way to Claire, the cashier.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hayes,” she said as she started ringing up the items.

Vivian looked up at her. “It’s Lawson. Miss Lawson now.”

Claire glanced at the wedding band she was still wearing, causing Vivian to slip her hand quickly into her pocket.

“But Claire, we’ve known each other for years. Please call me Vivian.”

Claire smiled. “Will this be cash or store credit?”

“Credit please,” Vivian said as she glanced out of the large department store window.

It was then that she noticed the golden afternoon sunlight flickering through the vibrant leaves of an elm tree standing guard out on the sidewalk. The site reminded Vivian of an impressionistic painting and for a brief moment she thought this is what her life had become; painted by someone else and out of focus.

The cashier coughed to get her attention.

Vivian turned back around. “Claire, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asked tentatively, suggesting that she needed her agreement to make it true.

Instead of listening, Claire was studying a clipboard. “It says in our records that you have reached your credit limit.”

Vivian looked at her innocently. “What does that mean?”
“That you have to pay cash.”

“But why? I haven’t purchased anything here in ages.”

Claire’s finger traveled down a long column of numbers. “Well, the last item listed here is a pricey mink stole.”

Flustered and embarrassed, Vivian turned to make an escape out the front door.

“Enjoy the beautiful day, Mrs. Hayes.”

Vivian left the car where it was parked and walked aimlessly down Main Street. As she passed the Abbot Bookstore and then the Town Florist’s shop she wondered how many other stores Paul had maxed out their accounts at. Worried about what to do, she drifted down Acorn Street and paused realizing she had stopped in front of Paul’s father’s barbershop.

She quickly turned around and made a right onto Main. There stood the Abbot Savings Bank and she hurried in.

•  •  •

Vivian sat opposite Henry Laytner, a very old and tidy banker. Growing impatient trying to read his face, she studied his desk. Every item was set perfectly in its place. Pens were all facing the same way, papers were piled in crisp stacks, even his phone sat perfectly angled with the corner of the desk. As he continued to scour endless account pages, Vivian looked out the bank’s window and realized the sun was setting on her impressionistic painting. She had to break the silence.

“But Henry, I have money of my own.”

He continued to examine the numbers. “You also had a joint account.” He shuffled a few more pages, put them down and looked at her seriously. “And it’s empty.”

Vivian wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly. “There’s nothing left? At all?”

He closed her file. “You have $135.25 in the checking account.”

“But the savings?”

Sympathetically, Henry shook his head.

Vivian was stunned. “But . . . but isn’t there something where I can take a loan out against my house?”

He stood up. “You could but you’re months behind in mortgage payments. I’m telling you right now, you won’t qualify.”

Vivian looked as though she were about to cry.

“You could try suing him but it’s obvious he has no money either.”

Sick to her stomach, Vivian stood up. “Thank you, Henry,” she said almost inaudibly. She started to walk away and then turned back to him. “This is a little embarrassing. Paul . . . obviously took care of all the finances and well . . . could you show me how to write a check?”

Henry smiled warmly as Vivian sat back down. She opened up her purse to take out her checkbook when a few of the bills fell to the floor. As she picked them up she looked at one. “And what would happen if say, I didn’t pay the electric bill for several months?”

“They’d turn the power off.”

“Oh my.”

After Henry showed her the correct and very tidy way to write out a check, Vivian left the bank and stood out on the sidewalk wondering what she should do. She saw Aquarius Hardware across the street and got an idea. Without looking, she stepped out into Main Street and almost got hit by a car. They honked their horn as Vivian stepped back up onto the curb and once the light turned in her favor, she ran across the street and into the store.

Moments later she came back out looking dejected. She walked further along on Main till she reached Gloria’s Bakeshop. She hesitated for a moment and then entered.

Beyond charming, Gloria had gingham curtains hanging in the windows and French café tables and chairs set up inside. Anyone walking into the shop and smelling the delicious confectionaries baking inside would always feel like they’ve stepped back in time into Grandma’s kitchen. Well, anyone but Vivian.

She walked up to a young girl working behind the counter. “Excuse me, Miss.”

She looked up at Vivian and then over to the clock on the wall. “I’m sorry, but we’re closing.”

Vivian tried to see past her into the kitchen. “Is Gloria here?”

The girl nodded, stepped into the back room and Gloria appeared covered in flour.

“Viv,” she exclaimed as she came out from behind the counter and they hugged. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you at the Club.”

“I’ve been a bit . . . ”

“Honey, I understand. You know I’ve been through the big “D” myself. But are you taking good care of yourself? You look awfully thin.”

Vivian pulled her to the side. “Gloria, I’m really strapped. I was wondering if you needed another girl to work the counter.”

“Honestly, I don’t. But I could use a baker.”

“Only hire me if you want to kill your customers.”

They both laughed.

“Oh Viv, I’ve missed your sense of humor.”

“Who’s being funny?”

“Say, have you tried Aquarius Hardware?”

“They just hired a girl.”

“Is there anything else you can do?”

“You know I’m not the best secretary.”

They embraced again. “Dear, if I hear of anything, I’ll give you a call.”

When they separated Gloria noticed Vivian eyeing the sticky buns in the display case. She thought quickly and ran around the counter, tossed the rolls into a box and handed them to her.

“Oh Gloria, I can’t . . . ”

“It’s closing time. I’d have to throw them out anyway.”

Vivian graciously took the box from her, blew her a kiss and then awkwardly left the shop.

Gloria watched her leave while shaking her head.

Vivian walked back to the Buick parked at Sutherland’s. She threw the buns into the car and hauled herself in. With it getting darker she turned on the car’s headlights as she pulled out onto Main Street but instead of going home her usual route Vivian turned right instead of left.

Main turned into Route 1 as she continued to drive north, frantically thinking of what to do. Without realizing it she had crossed over into the neighboring town of Norwich.

She passed by Coleson’s Tree Farm and Nursery and laughed.
I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned
.

She traveled on going by the Reid Plastics Corporation and then saw the bright orange roof of the Howard Johnson’s restaurant and shook her head.
I don’t think being a HoJo waitress is in my cards.

About a half mile down the road she came upon the enormous blinking neon sign for the slightly seedy-looking motel, the Shalimar. But with four of the letters not working, the remaining ones screamed out:

S  H  A  
L I
 M  
A R

Vivian pulled the car into the motor court and parked in front of a room as a middle-aged chambermaid came out with a cigarette clamped between her lips. She pushed her cart to the next unit.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Vivian shouted as she climbed out of the Buick. The chambermaid turned quickly and looked at Vivian suspiciously as she came over to her. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

The maid nervously looked both ways to see if anyone was watching. “You’re not with the police too, are you?”

“Oh no.”

The woman looked Vivian up and down. “You write for a travel guide and you’re rating us?”

“I’m afraid not. I was thinking of applying for a job. Do you enjoy your work?”

She laughed cynically. “Do I enjoy scrubbing toilets full of some stranger’s deadly germs and changing sheets stained with God knows what? Do I enjoy risking my life every day not knowing if some pervert is about to jump out of a closet and kill me? Do I enjoy working for minimum wage?” She paused for a moment. “I guess so.”

“How much is minimum wage?”

With a disgusted look on her face, she took one last drag of her cigarette, tossed it onto the pavement and ground it out with her shoe. “Seventy-five cents an hour.”

“That’s all?”

The chambermaid leaned in to Vivian. “Don’t tell the boss but once in a while a guy will tip me five, sometimes ten bucks to tuck him in real tight at night. And I’m not talking hospital corners.”

Vivian responded naively, “Oh?” She repeated to herself what the maid had just said. “Oh.” Then, Vivian got it. “Oh!”

She rushed to her car, hopped in and sped down Route 1 back to Abbot.

•  •  •

A few weeks past by and Vivian’s salad bowl of bills and late notices grew so large they spilled out onto the kitchen table. There was also an annoying notice someone kept putting up on her front door, but knowing that whatever it was it wasn’t something she could take care of, she just kept tearing them up and throwing them away. Running out of time and money, she realized she had to do something she had sworn she’d never do again in her life.

She drove the Buick, which was making a strange scraping sound underneath its belly, into Manning’s Service Station on the west side of town and parked it in front of a pump. The car gave out one large belch before the engine shut down. A young man came out and around to Vivian’s window as she rolled it down.

“Hey Johnny.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Gettin’ pretty cold, isn’t Mrs. Hayes?”

“It’s Miss . . . ” She shook her head deciding it wasn’t worth trying to change her name. She opened her purse and started digging around.

“Your car sounded kinda strange comin’ in.” He walked around it. “They say we might have snow on the holiday.”

Vivian counted any nickels, dimes and pennies she could find. “What holiday?”

He came back around to her side and laughed. “You’re so funny, Mrs. Hayes.”

She looked at him blankly.

“Thursday? It’s Thanksgivin’?”

“Oh, of course.” She made it sound like an oversight but truthfully, she had totally forgotten. She momentarily thought of the impressionistic painting, realizing each day was blurring into the next.

Johnny kneeled down and took a look under her car. “Mrs. Hayes, looks like your muffler is draggin’ on the ground.”

“Oh really?”

“You oughta get that fixed before you lose it.”

“I can’t afford . . . ” She paused and decided to rephrase her remark. “I can’t afford the time. I have to make it into the city and back. Just give me a dollar’s worth of gas?”

“Sure thing.”

•  •  •

As Vivian scraped and clunked her way down Route 1 to Boston she had to think hard to remember the last time she had seen her mother. She visited Irene as seldom as possible. Both mother and daughter preferred it that way. But when money was involved, Irene had made it clear early on that it would never happen over the phone. Vivian would have to ask for it in person, face-to-face. She knew it was because her mother enjoyed watching her squirm.