Ghosts

Sometime during the early morning a weather front had rolled in to paint the normally clear blue sky a steely gray as an unseasonably cool wind blew in from the northwest. It was a welcome reprieve from the heat and a potential mercy to the parched earth that was crying out for a good drink, if only the clouds showed some mercy and let the rain fall. When I head into the office to grab my breakfast my wings are clipped for a bit as I had to bring my soaring mood back to ground level to tell Barb about the trouble I got into as well as pass on the sheriff’s veiled threat. I was not surprised at all that she’d already heard of what happened through the gossip network but she listens to my side of the story without interruption. For my part I hold nothing back, it is a full mea culpa, and for hers she does something even more important than simply listen, she believes me. Not only does she not fire me, the idea not even crossing her mind even though I wouldn’t blame her if she did, she gives me a set of my own keys for the office along with everything else on the property, including her suite, the cash box and the fenced off lot in behind the motel I didn’t even know belonged to her.

I stare at the keys in my hand, Earl’s keys, and the significance is not lost on me. It was an extension of trust and understanding that I had not yet earned. It was an act of faith, pure and simple. Barb had not cast me out or turned her back on the trouble making newcomer. She had welcomed me further into her business and her life, flaws and all. Also, I couldn’t miss how she’d begun to refer to herself and I as a ‘we’ and an ‘us’. I was a part of this motel, a part of this town. For the first time in a long time I felt like I…belonged. There was a place for me here if I was brave enough to fill it. Until now I had always run from my problems, to start again somewhere else with a fresh slate. But over time I had discovered that the slate was never truly blank, that the issues I had in one town would follow me to the next because they were right here inside of me.

Last night I was so sure that fight would have shown the world that I really was the idiotic, irresponsible, irredeemable wastrel that my Dad had convinced me I was. But, defying all logic, it had instead revealed that some people could see the better side of me even through my failures. First Mei, then Mom and now Barb, the women in my life, with kindness and understanding, had woven a soft mat to soften my fall. For once I hadn’t run away, for once I had stuck around long enough to see that people could be good if you gave them the chance.

Stepping forward I throw my arms around Barb and give her the hug of all hugs. “Thank you, Barb! I won’t let you down.”

“OH!” She hoots at my sudden affection. Reluctantly at first and then all at once she hugs me back. “Easy there, kid. It’s just a set of keys.” As we part she straightens her big glasses, her face showing a warmth that told me she understood what the keys meant to me despite what she’d just said. “I’d rather you stand up for what’s right then sit quiet for what’s wrong.” She says sagely. “There’s not enough of that going on nowadays if you ask me. Nothing wrong with a man being a man.” With a smirk she adds. “I’ll sleep easier now knowing my guard dog’s got bite to match the bark.”

“Now I’m on guard duty too?” I quip.

“Always were.” She says. “Now, if you make a habit of this kind of thing…”

“I won’t.” I say, holding my hands up. “At least not if I can help it. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“That’s my boy.” She grins, patting my cheek. “Don’t worry too much about that big bad Sheriff. I’m in tight with an even higher authority.”

“God?”

“His momma.”

“HA!” I chortle.

“You’re fine, Dusty. Don’t let’em get to ya.” She says. “There’s assholes wherever you go. Halcyon’s no different.” Snatching away my stack of empty yogurt cups she waves me off. “Now go make yourself useful or something!”

Twirling my keys near my hip like an old-timey gunslinger with his pistol I head for the door. “I’ll find something, just holler if you need me.”

With a whole new area to explore my first project of the day was to check out the fenced lot behind the motel. With my new keys I open the padlock and push open the gate, having to lean my weight into it to push through tall grass and purple headed thistles. From the overgrowth alone I suspect that I was the first person stepping in here since Barb’s late husband himself. The area brings to mind the space around Mei’s garage with sun-faded and rusting relics. In roughly organized piles there were old bed frames, broken chairs, a hollowed out dryer and all manner of detritus from the motel. As I walk grasshoppers leap in all directions, their hard carapaces tinking as they careen off the junk. I begin to wonder if Mei might be able to find some use for some of this stuff.

Dominating the area in the center of the yard is a blue and white late 70’s Chevy pickup truck. Tall yellow flowered goat’s beard grew up around the truck, along with the thistles, though among them I could see the tires were inflated and in good shape. The body had a bit of rust here and there, though nothing too bad given its age, and the once vibrant azure had faded to a dull gray-blue but otherwise it looked like it might have been parked there yesterday. The driver’s door gives a loud, creaking protest as I pull it open. I slip up into the well-worn vinyl bench seat. Much like the outside the interior was showing its age though it had clearly been take care of until recently.

As I sit in the groove Earl’s ass had worn into the seat after countless trips my eyes drift back to the motel. Barb told me her husband had passed on just last year. She never showed it but the pain must still be fresh for her. With a light grip I run my hands around the steering wheel as my mood grows more somber. My gaze drifts back to look across at the passenger seat where I could just imagine Barb, younger and vivacious, gabbing away while she and Earl drove to the store to pick up supplies. Then for a moment, just a second, it wasn’t Barb but Mei sitting beside me, her eyes glimmering in that way she had of smiling without smiling. Where Barb was young Mei’s hair is silver and hard won wrinkles crease her beautiful face as she and I drive these same South Dakota roads. Shaking my head I cast out the vision and bring myself back to the moment.

“Let’s get through a second date before we start thinking about forever.” I mutter to myself. “Jesus, dude. Take it easy!”

From the truck I make my way to the shed, waving away the annoying yellow jackets that pestered me along the way. The shed I find locked with another padlock. I find the right key and slowly open the door. The smells of gasoline, grease and old tobacco smoke hits my nose. I find myself stepping into a moment frozen in time. On a work bench sits a gas powered weed trimmer half torn apart. Beside it is an ashtray with a half a dozen butted out cigarettes among the ash, beside it was an open half full pack of Marlboro Reds and an old brass Zippo. On the walls hung a leaf blower and various tools. Above the window that looked out onto the plain beyond Halcyon a .22 rifle sat on a rack, a box of shells on a high shelf beside it. When I see spent casing glint from the corner on the floor it doesn’t take much imagination to picture Earl opening that window and aiming past the chain link to take potshots at passing ground squirrels, coyotes or rattle snakes. Every tool, every item, I could imagine being set down by this man I had never met who had every intention on picking them up again.

The repair, the rifle, the cigarettes left out here because Barb probably didn’t let him smoke in their home, all of it gives little clues to who Earl was. Looking around it is both sobering and creepy at once as, except for a bit of dust, it looked like he’d left things like this a moment ago and might return any minute now. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I swear I can feel his ghost lingering nearby watching this Southern redhead intrude on his private shed.

“Earl, you dog.” I chuckle as I pull a dog-eared old copy of an mid-80’s issue of Hustler magazine from under a faded blue service manual for the 1978 Chevy parked in the lot. The more I uncovered the more I was starting to like this guy. Running my fingers over the glossy cover I smirk at the ‘go big or go home’ 80’s perm on the cover girl’s head. They didn’t do anything subtle back then. Curiosity getting the better of me I flip the magazine open to the page Earl had dog-eared. “Daaaamn!” I say as I am greeted with a full page spread of a smoking hot bleach blonde showing EVERYTHING. Had this been Penthouse or Playboy there might have been some artistry to the shot, but as it was Hustler there was nothing left to the imagination. The woman lay back facing the camera, big natural titties out and legs spread wide while her fingers splaying her pink pussy open for the camera. “Damn, Earl.” I lick my lips, my unslaked lust from last night rushing back in an instant. “You got good taste, buddy.” After a few more moments ogling the model’s body I finally look at her face. She was pretty. Too much makeup maybe, but pretty. And pretty…familiar? “BARB!?”