Leftovers: A Novel (9 page)

Exhausted, Vivian slept late. Normally she would have showered and gotten dressed but she wondered what the point would be. All she had for breakfast was black coffee and just after 11:00 A.M. she turned on the television. She had no interest in watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, but the sound of it felt comforting. With no plans, she stretched out on the sofa, pulled a blanket up over her head and fell asleep.

Hours later it was the roar of the crowd at the Missouri versus Maryland football game on television that woke Vivian up. Actually hungry, she went into the kitchen and stood in the middle of the room, dazed. In her cupboards were some cleaning items along with baking soda, baking powder and a few dried spices. She opened the refrigerator revealing condiments like ketchup, mustard and relish. A jar of pickles sat in a green sea of mold and a head of lettuce was beginning to decompose in the crisper. On the counter was a set of canisters. She opened each one as if she had no idea what was in them. Flour, sugar, salt and surprisingly, the fourth one had some white rice in it. She threw it into a pot with some water and lit the Wedgewood without any fear at all. In fact, she dared it to blow up.

Forty-five minutes later the sun was beginning to set while it continued to snow. Vivian sat at her kitchen table looking at the pile of bills as she tried to scrape undercooked stuck rice off of the bottom of the pan. She picked up one envelope, which indicated it was from the electric company and threw it back onto the table. She tried to eat another spoonful of rice and all of a sudden, the lights went out. The power was cut off and the football fans cheering on television dissolved into a moan and then dissipated to nothing.

Not surprised, not angry, not anything, Vivian just sat there in the dark.

•  •  •

No more than an hour later and still snowing, Babs carefully drove down Osgood Street with chains attached to the back tires of her car. Stew sat in the passenger’s seat with a tower of Tupperware full of food on his lap.

“Babs, when’s the last time you saw her?”

She thought hard. “I don’t remember.”

“Why did you stop calling?”

“Stew, I stopped calling because Vivian was never home.”

“Or she never picked up.”

As Babs pulled up in front of the house she strained to see out of the snow-covered window. “I don’t see a single light on.”

“Maybe she went to her mother’s for the holiday?”

“God help her if she did.”

Babs got out of the car and slid her way around to Stew’s side as he opened his door. He started to get out and she pushed him back in. “Are you crazy? You’ll do more damage to your foot.” She took the Tupperware containers from him as he fought with his crutch and then shut the door.

The snow was knee deep as Babs plodded her way towards Vivian’s house. Slowly, she carved out a path to the front door. Completely out of breath, she rang the doorbell, but there was no sound. She tried ringing it again and then knocked on the door. Getting no response, she dug out a spot in the snow with her hands and put the food-filled Tupperware down into it and then backtracked down the walkway and worked her way to the garage.

So much snow had fallen since Vivian had parked the Buick that Babs couldn’t see any tire tracks. And with the garage door windowless, she couldn’t tell if her car was in there or not. She made her way to the kitchen door and pounded on it.

“Viv!” she hollered. “Vivian, are you in there?”

Still getting no response and beginning to shiver, Babs tried scraping off the ice that had accumulated on the back door window but she couldn’t see in. Her thighs started to burn as she trudged back to the car.

She opened her door and fell onto the driver’s seat. “I don’t think she’s there,” she said breathlessly. “No answer and can’t tell if the car’s in the garage.”

“What did you do with the food?”

“Dug a hole and left if on the front step.”

Stew shrugged his shoulders as Babs closed her door and shifted into first. “This snow isn’t going anywhere fast,” he said. “Wherever she is, the food will still be fresh and frozen till she gets to it.”

They both laughed nervously as she drove off.

In total darkness, Vivian sat at the kitchen table almost comatose. She was emotionally spent and nutritionally deprived. If only Babs could have seen in through the window, she might have noticed the red glow of Vivian’s cigarette as she took another drag.

The next day it finally stopped snowing. It was sunny and cold and like all true-blooded Yankees, the townsfolk of Abbot quickly banded together clearing the streets and sidewalks preparing for one of their busiest shopping days of the year.

Vivian had fallen asleep on the sofa and eventually woke up when she heard some sort of drilling coming from the front of the house. She got to her feet and feeling a bit dizzy, staggered to the door. She opened it and found to her surprise, Henry Laytner standing there, watching Carl Willows trying to remove the lock from the door.

“Vivian,” Henry exclaimed, as he looked very tidy with his pant legs tucked into his galoshes. “You
are
home.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“We knocked for a long time,” Carl said, as if he was caught doing something wrong.

“Vivian, this is Carl Willows.”

Carl turned to Henry. “Viv and I went to school together.”

“Yes, we did.”

There was an awkward pause and then Henry cleared his throat. “Vivian, I’m so sorry, but we have to change the locks.”

She looked at him, confused.

“The bank posted several eviction notices on your house,” he continued as she looked at him vacantly. “You must have seen them.”

“I suppose so.”

“You had a couple of weeks to move your belongings out. The bank now owns the house.”

“Oh my.”

There was another awkward pause and Henry cleared his throat again. “Uh, we have to ask you to leave.”

“OK,” she said unemotionally as she gestured for them to come in.

At first sight, both Henry and Carl were taken aback at how the living room looked. Vivian had never picked up the objects she had thrown at Paul back in September, nor had she cleaned or straightened up the place. Newspapers, magazines, dirty glasses and dishes littered the room.

Henry took out the handkerchief from his suit’s breast pocket and dabbed it to his nose. “Vivian, the bank will hold your possessions for a period of time and you’ll be able to reclaim them but . . . ”

She cut him off as she headed upstairs. “There isn’t anything I want. I’ll pack a suitcase and come back down.”

•  •  •

Carl was kind enough to shovel the drive so Vivian could back out of the garage with the Buick.

And Henry felt horrible about having to throw Vivian out of her house. “You’re going to be OK, Vivian?” he asked as he helped her into the car. “You have some place to go?”

“Yes Henry, I’m fine.”

She shut the door and vicariously backed out of her driveway in her muffler-less jalopy and out onto Osgood Street. Worried, Henry watched her as Carl posted the foreclosure notice on the front of the house. She stripped the gears shifting into first, headed towards town and never looked back. As she rumbled on, the corners of her mouth curled up slightly as she envisioned all the unpleasant memories she had experienced while living in that house, finally being locked up for good.

She turned right onto Clark Road and passed by the estates, each trying to outdo one another with opulent fall wreaths mounted to their front doors. Reaching the bottom of the hill, she turned right onto River Road and bumped over the railroad tracks, crossing the snow covered Drake River via the wrought iron bridge. She then turned left onto Mill Road and inched her way up the incline, leaning forward trying to help the Buick as it made it to the top. She passed South Church on her left and then coasted towards town. Everything looked so pristine and magical, as if all were covered in marshmallow and ice. Anyone else would have thought they had fallen into a Currier & Ives winter wonderland print, but not Vivian. Like a flame that was just about to burn out, she suddenly had a burst of energy and clarity, and had only one thing on her mind.

Instead of driving by the Abbot Movie House, Vivian took a right onto Central Street for two blocks and stopped at the corner of Lowell Junction. The Buick was definitely on its last legs but valiantly got her to her destination, Axelrod’s Used Cars.

Vivian turned into the lot and before she had a chance to park the wreck, it spitted and sputtered and after releasing a tremendous backfire, it died. Wearing a pair of ankle high boots and with her raincoat over her uniform, she eased herself out of the Buick and stepped into a deep slush puddle. Numb already, she hardly felt the ice water burning her feet. She reached into the car and dragged out her one suitcase and headed over to the office.

Vivian leaned on a 1953 Thunderbird convertible parked in front of the dealership as Bill Axelrod came out to greet her.

“Good day, Vivian.” His first reaction was that she seemed to be rather underdressed for the weather.

“Hey Bill.”

“What can I do you for?”

She held onto the Thunderbird and tried to get the water out of her shoes.

Bill stroked the car lovingly. “Gorgeous.”

“What?” Vivian asked looking up at him. For a moment she thought he meant her. “Oh yes, yes she is.”

There was a long awkward pause as Bill searched for something to say. “Ah, looking to buy another car, Vivian?”

“Actually, I was wondering what you could give me for the Buick.”

“Let’s see.” Together they walked over to the car. “It’s a 44? Makes it 10 years old. Would’ve cost you about $750. Beauty in its day.” He walked around it. “You got some pretty good dings in it. Missing a taillight. Did someone hit you from behind?”

She nodded as he unsuccessfully tried to open the trunk. He walked around to the other side, which was dented and severely scraped from Vivian scratching her way out of the garage. Bill opened the passenger’s door and noticed the leather seat was torn. He leaned in and looked at the speedometer.

“A lot of miles you’ve put on it,” he said shaking his head as he got out of the car and shut the door. “Sorry Vivian.”

“Please Bill.”

“Just keep driving it till it stops.”

“I did.”

“It’s really not worth . . . ”

“I’ll take anything for it.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, apologetically.

Vivian followed him back to the office and then noticed a sign hanging in the window.

SALESMAN
WANTED!

“Wait! You want a new salesperson?”

“You mean Paul?”

“No, you didn’t hear? He and I split up. Bill, I’m flat broke. And I lost the house.”

“Foreclosure?”

She got very excited. “If you hire me, I’d work really hard and I think I could . . . ”

He cut her off, laughing. “Oh Vivian, we don’t let women sell cars.” He looked at her face and then realized how desperate she was and changed his tune. “Maybe I can use the Buick for scrap?”

“But Bill, if you give me a chance.”

“Will $25 help?”

Dejected, she nodded as he counted out the money from his pocket and handed to her.

“Thank you.” She picked up her suitcase.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?”

“No,” she said barely audible. “I’ll walk.”

Vivian turned and headed towards town, sloshing through snow and puddles as Bill went back into the office. With no sidewalks on either side of the road, she lugged her suitcase down Lowell Junction for three blocks to Main Street as cars sped by spraying snow and ice water. Not quite sure what she should do, Vivian headed to Gloria’s Bakeshop. At the very least, she could get a hot cup of coffee and try to dry out her shoes.

The sidewalks on Main were clear and full of shoppers eager to take advantage of the holiday bargains hence no one noticed Vivian as she made her way with the heavy valise. Tired, cold and hungry, she stopped in front of Gloria’s to catch her breath. When she turned to enter the café she saw, sitting in the front window at a table for two, Eleanor and Paul holding hands. Embarrassed, Vivian hid her face and scurried away.

Feeling beaten down and hopeless, Vivian walked and walked and walked. Not paying attention to where she was going and shivering to the bone, she found herself surprisingly at the bottom of Mill Road. Instinctively, maybe she was walking back towards the house, but as she went out onto the wrought iron bridge she stopped mid-way.

She looked out into the river and saw that the sun, shining warm and brightly, had melted a small hole in the ice and she could see the rushing water below. She put down her suitcase and stepped up onto it. She paused for a brief moment and then swung one leg over the railing, and then the other. Vivian sat there looking out at the mill her father had built as thoughts and images flashed through her brain like a strobe light. Snapshots of her mother, her dolls, the Shepherd house, her father’s funeral, Maid 4 and Paul. Her eyes welled up with tears as she leaned forward to jump.