Calling Home. Janna McMahan
different—college and an interesting job if that was what she wanted. Things were finally changing for women. Girls of Shannon’s generation had options.
But the day the Rucker boy showed up on her porch marked the turning point. Virginia knew if she put her foot down against this boy, Shannon would run after him all the harder. Shannon saw him as freedom, as independence. She didn’t realize she was playing with fire, gambling with the rest of her life. Virginia had known this situation was inevitable. Now she was left to monitor them and make things move as slowly as possible. He seemed like a decent kid. The Ruckers were a good family as far as Virginia knew. Surely no worse than the Lemmons.
Virginia froze with the cigarette at her lips. She heard crunching gravel, and then Roger’s car came around the corner of the house. He got out of the low-slung machine and tromped through the unruly grass to his shed. From the porch, Virginia could see Roger open the padlock and yank the ceiling bulb’s chain, throwing stark, quivering shadows onto the plank floor. The quilt trailed behind Virginia as she sneaked across the yard.
“Roger.”
He jumped. “Good God. I didn’t think you was here. I’m just getting some supplies and stuff I need.”
She stepped inside, shaking her wet hair. “You can’t come around here taking things.”
“I’m going to set up a new place. Maybe business’ll be better in town.”
“In town where?”
He threw wire and brushes and small bottles of paint in boxes and yanked tools off the shed walls. “You know where,” he said.
“No. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Shit, Virginia. Go on back in the house. We don’t need to have some big discussion now.”
“I want to know. Where’s your new place going to be?”
“Back of the beauty shop.”
Virginia’s laugh startled even her, it was so loud and full.
“That’s rich,” she said. “What you going to do, hang your mounts on the walls in her beauty shop? I bet customers’ll love looking at dead deer and coons while they get their hair styled. Dead animal smell ought to mix real good with permanents.”
“I’ll be in the back. There’s lots of space.”
“That what you’re looking for, Roger? More space?”
“You’re so clever. I’m not going to get into it with you.” He packed a box with tacks and glue and crammed a Styrofoam form in the shape of a leaping squirrel in last. The lifeless glass eyes of the animals along the walls touched her skin. There were fish, mouths open wide to scoop up a lure, but they seemed to be laughing at her. Virginia caught a glimpse of herself in the remaining silver spots of an old mirror. Half-moons under her eyes made her face seem bruised. She had dropped a dress size in the last couple of months, but Roger didn’t notice.
She said, “The kids miss you.”
“I miss them.”
“You don’t call them. Why don’t you come take Will hunting?”
“He ain’t talking to me.”
“Can you blame him?”
“That’s what you’re all about, Virginia—blame. I only want to get my stuff and get out.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “Run away. You’re getting pretty good at that. You thought you’d slink in here and take things without ever having to face up to any of the rest of us. Do you have any idea what’s going on with your family now? Do you?”
“Apparently I don’t know much of anything,” he said. “That’s why I left. I never could do nothing to suit you.”
“Shannon’s seeing some boy from over in Mannsville and you know we told her she couldn’t date until she was sixteen.”
“It was you decided she couldn’t date until she was sixteen. Not me. It was always you making the decisions, so don’t ask me for help. Lots of girls date at fifteen.”
“Fourteen. She’s still fourteen, Roger. That’s pitiful. You don’t even know how old your own daughter is.”
“So sue me.” Roger grabbed the boxes and headed to the car.
“I might sue you!” Virginia screamed. “I’ll sue you for divorce and I’ll sue you for child support and alimony and for being the world’s number one asshole!” Roger threw the boxes in the trunk and slammed the lid. By the time he slid into the bucket seat, she was there.
“Let go of the door,” he said.
“Roger, do you know how embarrassing it is to have your husband run off with a whore?”
“She ain’t a whore.”
“Oh, yeah. Did you ever ask her what she did in Louisville?”
“I don’t care what she did before.”
“Where you think she got that name? Bootsie? That’s her stripper name, I bet.”
“At least she ain’t on my case every hour of every day. I’m tired of you always telling me what to do. Like you own me or something.”
“You’re tired? You’re tired? You ran off and left me with everything to do—the house, the kids, the bills.”
“Virginia, get away from the car.”
“I should have known something was up when you bought this car. Should I tell the kids you spent all our savings on this flashy piece of junk?”
“You tell the kids whatever you like. You’re going to anyway. Now let go.”
“Roger. Roger. You can’t do this to me. Wait.”
“Virginia, damn!” He stepped out of the car. “Stop.” He grabbed her shoulders hard and raised her up on her toes. “Calm down.”
She stiffened in his grasp. Her eyes were wild and black. “Let go of me!”
“Virginia. For Christ’s sake.”
She raked at his face, but he held her wrists. She struggled, twisting and jerking away from him. He held her to his chest until her rage was exhausted. She wilted into him. Roger spoke down into her hair. “Honey, we’re over. We made a decent run of things, but we’re both unhappy. You know that.”
“No,” she moaned. “You love me, you know you do.”
The rain picked up. Roger gently pushed her away, but she stumbled backward over a rock. He slid in the car and cracked the driver’s window. “Go back in the house, Virginia. You’re going to get sick.”
She gritted her teeth and leaned close to his window. “You know what I don’t miss about you, Roger? I don’t miss those damn hollow-eyed animals in the freezer. You’ll probably make it at taxidermy because you’re good at sucking the life right out of something and making it seem like nothing ever happened at all.”
“You know what I don’t miss? This.”
A fist-sized rock bounced off the hood. Another slammed into the passenger door. The car caught road and growled away. Virginia hurled a last rock, tripped with the effort, fell to the ground. The wedding ring quilt lay drenched and dirty next to her. She gathered it into her lap, brushed gently at the stains, but all she did was smear mud across the pale patches of material. Virginia put her face into the wet blanket and cried.
5
Roger could see Virginia in his rearview mirror. She was down in the driveway, sobbing her heart out. Roger felt awful, but a guy could only take so much. He had paid his dues. He’d paid and paid and paid for better than seventeen years, but sometimes a fellow had to have a change. There should be a law that if a couple manages