Bud Anderson
After work, I drove down West River Road along the Zumbro River. It wasn’t late but the sky glowed like an ember, gray and red. The news was out that Koski was being released and I felt kinda bad for the schmuck. Tough break but he brought it on himself.
A bald eagle soared over the river and I watched as she flew over her nest. Her nest was the freakin’ Taj Mahal of nests, high in the fork of a tree over the water. The biggest fuckin’ nest I had ever seen. She scanned the river, swooped down, came back up clutching a fish in her talons and then glided back to the Taj Mahal, the fish flopping in the air.
It was early for eaglets but they’d hatch soon in the order they were laid. I read once the oldest eaglet killed its siblings. Survival of the fittest. Nature knows best. It had always been my philosophy too. That and a woman’s place was at home in the nest.
It was Saturday and I didn’t have much going on. I started up the truck and headed around to the prison. She was on call that day so I parked across the street, under the pines, and waited for her to leave.
Bingo. There she was. I stayed a good distance behind Grace’s car. She had an unlisted number. I hadn’t been able to find her address. This was my chance. It was easy to slip into Saturday traffic, sparse as it was and follow her. Since she went to Garrett with that ridiculous story about me assaulting her, I’d been meaning to talk to her about it. Garrett told the captain but lucky for me, I was able to apologize and explain that it was a misunderstanding. I was a man and misread the signals, that’s all. Thanks to Garret, I was on probation. Prison policy. Captain told me he’d better not even see me looking at Grace at work. Ever.
Damn it. She was turning up ahead. The light turned yellow and I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I sped up a little and was right behind her. She was in the right turn lane. I put my signal on and let another car in front of me. She turned at the next light into Trader Joe’s.
I parked several cars spaces away and watched her in the rearview mirror. She was laughing. The guy was waiting for her outside the store. They walked into the supermarket with his arm around her shoulders. For some reason it pissed me off.
I pictured the grocery cart’s rubber wheels squeaking as they maneuvered through Trader Joe’s, hand in hand. Grace probably picked ripe tomatoes from the bin and held them to her nose. Maybe bought some fresh asparagus, corn, baking potatoes, and filet mignon. Some wine for dinner. Chocolate dipped strawberries for dessert. She seemed the type who had to have everything perfect.
They came out of the store smiling. I felt sick. It was kind of a hopeless feeling in the pit of my stomach, like when something bad’s about to happen and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You just have to stand by and watch. “I’ll follow you to your house, okay?” I heard her call after they loaded the groceries in her trunk. She was unaware that I sat a few cars away in my truck, watching.
They took a route I had never driven. At the next light, there was a dilapidated wooden sign in front of an equally dilapidated-looking one-story yellow brick building. The sign read Oakwood Manor. So that’s where Koski went.
A few minutes later, she parked her car behind Alex in the driveway of his two-story cedar shingled townhouse. I knew Garrett’s address and I was surprised to see the building sat back on a quiet tree-lined street, a few doors away from Josie’s house. A bunch of children played across the street. I parked across the street and saw Grace blot her eyes like she’d been crying. The guy opened her door and hugged her before they carried the groceries into his house.
There was nothing to do but turn around. I wasn’t ready to go home yet so I drove to Silver Lake Park. The waning light shimmered through the branches. A sharp pang of longing, almost a twinge of pain, shot through my belly as I remembered what it was like to return to a home. The sky turned orange and ignited a desire in me for a real home with a wife and kids. A day I hadn’t thought about in years came back to me as if it had happened yesterday.
Nineteen ninty-nine. The shockingly cold water was a welcome relief from the rising heat wave. The scorching sun and haze had held Rochester in its grip for several days. Tornado weather. We went to Chester Woods. The Twins cap I wore that day was still around somewhere.
The kids were laid out like pork sausages on a red plaid blanket. Side by side they sunned themselves, their bodies oiled and slick, and squinted in the sun. Sharon was five. She wore a pink one-piece bathing suit with a little ruffle around the top. She was a serious little girl with gray eyes and a somber manner. Kristen had huge round eyes the color of cornflowers with a faint eclipse of golden lashes. Her silky, fine platinum hair was caught up in a baby’s pigtails. Sunscreen covered her chubby folds, the insides of her elbows and the tops of her pink thighs.
The tops of her ears were burned bright red. Kristen was a baby then and she laughed, a high-pitched little girl laugh, with the exhilaration of a summer afternoon in her eyes. We ran into Chester Lake, Krissie perched like a princess on my shoulders, in her bright orange flowered swimsuit. She held onto the top of my head and I bent to dip her toes in the water while she squealed.
The icy water sent shock waves through my nervous system. Danny laughed and ran to us with big exaggerated strides. His stubby legs struggled against the weight of water. “My turn. It’s my turn. Carry me, Daddy!” he cried. I taught Danny to swim that day. At first, he clung to my leg but he picked it up quick.
Day turned to dusk. We grilled hot dogs and roasted marshmallows on a coal-filled pit. Stacy set up lawn chairs and wrapped the children in blankets. I wondered if we had any pictures of that day. To tell the truth, I hadn’t thought about that day in years but now that the kids were grown, it’d be nice to have a memento.
I got to Silver Lake and parked, hoping to avoid another long night at home. I thought about what Grace and that guy were doing and felt a hard-on straining against my pants. Grace jogged here once in a while but there was no chance she’d be here today. I got out of the truck and stood in the parking lot. It was cold for April and I stuffed my hands into the pants pockets. I got soft again—I wasn’t into playing with it. The lake was nice. Quiet. The geese honked plaintively. A light snow began to fall as I sat on an empty bench facing the water and thought about Grace. Even tonight, there were joggers out. Why the fuck do they always run in pairs? I guess I had forgotten what it was like to feel like part of a couple.
Trees curled toward one another against the flinty sky. Giant Canada Geese surrounded me. Their webbed feet were caked with oozing green shit. I threw a stone at them and they scattered. They had a history in these parts, older than my own. They had a steady supply of bread and no natural predators or hunters and Silver Lake had become home for them.
The temperature began to fall. It hurt like hell to breathe. An arctic air mass was shifting south from Canada. It was almost spring and it was still freakin’ cold. I tugged up the woolen scarf Sharon knitted me for Christmas to cover my nose and mouth. A bunch of homeless people warmed their hands over a small trash can fire and I yelled at them to get a move on.
I stayed there for a while, rubbing my hands together to stay warm, while images of Grace floated through my mind. Not the ones of her lying on the floor with that asshole but images of her trudging through the parking lot in the blue light of winter, wrapped in her red scarf. Grace standing in her office, bathed in sunlight. Grace laughing on her phone as she walked into the supermarket. Grace lying next to me as I held her close, firelight flickering in her eyes. Grace taking my hand and holding it to her cheek. Grace’s eyes when her back was arched with passion. Grace’s soft touch on my bare back.
Half an hour later, a coppery sun skimmed the horizon, and I climbed into my truck, ready to go home and determined to find out where she lived.