Elizabeth Massie - Naked, on the Edge

’Hey, sweetie!’’

’Hey, Hannah!” said the boy. “I got an A on a science test today! It was all about earthworms. Do you know an earthworm swallows dirt and then poots it

out the other side? It makes the soil rich for growing vegetables and flowers and stuff.”

“Uh, yes, I think I remember something like that,” said Hannah. She smiled at the child’s enthusiasm. Whenever she imagined herself as a mother, she envisioned her child beautiful and innocent, like Allen. Karla came up and draped her arm around Allen’s shoulder. “Hi, sorry I’m late. It’s been a day and a half, I can’t even get into it.”

’’Don’t worry about it,” said Hannah. “Do you have Allen’s things ready for tonight?”

“Yep,” said Karla. “Allen, here’s the key. Go get the overnight bag out of the front hall.”

Allen raced up the sidewalk, unlocked the front door, and disappeared inside the house.

“You’re a saint for agreeing to keep Allen,” said Karla. “It’s not that he gets underfoot, really, but sometimes I just need to be alone to keep my thoughts straight. This campaign is so important, Hannah.”

“I know. You don’t need to convince me,” said Hannah. “Come on, Allen, hurry up.”

“Give me a call if you need anything,” said Karla.

“We’ll be fine,” said Hannah.

Allen bounded out of the house and hopped into the passenger’s seat of the Bug. Karla gave him a quick kiss through the open window, then went to the house.

Hannah smiled at Allen and said, “You know, there’s a really good movie on down at the Tripoli.”

She’d given Allen a quick meal at her apartment; homemade macaroni and cheese, some carrot sticks, and orange juice. Then, at 7:20, she’d driven him to the Tripoli Theater, which had an 7:30 Disney double feature. They’d parked, and Hannah had walked Allen to the box office.

“My mom never lets me go to movies on school nights,” Allen had said in the car, his eyebrows drawn up, as though he was afraid the confession might make Hannah change her mind.

“And you can’t spend the night at friends houses on school nights, either,” Hannah had answered. “But tonight is different. It’s special.”

She’d bought the boy a ticket, had glanced around to quell the nagging sense that it might not be a good idea to send a child to a theater alone, had seen nothing in the movie-going crowd but parents and children, and so, relieved, had kissed the boy on the head, pressed ten dollars into his hand for snacks, and said, “Be watching for me at nine-thirty, sharp. Stay inside the theater but watch out the door. I’ll pull up to the curb right here in front.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t talk to strangers.”

Allen giggled. It was clear he’d heard this many times before. “I won’t, Hannah.” And he’d stood on the sidewalk, waving, until she was out of sight.

Ihave an hour and a half for dinner, Hannah thought as she drove back to her apartment to take one last look at herself in the mirror and to collect Timothy. An hour and a half isn’t bad. Dinner, some conversation, maybe time to work up another get-together.

She turned on the radio and hummed along, even though she didn’t know the song.

Joe’s apartment was pure college-man. Hannah walked in, holding Timothy in his tote in one hand and some daisies she’d picked up at the grocery store on the way over. Nostalgia washed over her; memories of her own shared flat when she’d been an undergraduate, a place she’d shared with buddy and fellow history major Charlotte Reeder. The furniture was salvage, the music loud and fast and current. Even the smells were familiar — spoiled food cleaned up but not completely, trash taken out just moments earlier, cigarettes and incense, sweat and air freshener, youth and vigor.

“Great place,” Hannah said, standing on the living room mat just inside the door. In his tote, Timothy whined.

Joe laughed. “Oh, well, thanks. It’s not quite what I’d call great, but I like it. It’s home. I vacuumed.”

“Thanks.”

Hannah glanced at Joe. His gaze was steady and a bit disconcerting. It made her heart kick in expectation.

“Dinner is still brewing,” said Joe. He reached for the tote and popped open the lid. Timothy’s furry face appeared at the top. “Hey, guy, how you doing in there, kitty?”

Timothy whined again and caught the edge of the tote to pull himself out.

“Is it all right if I let him roam around?” asked Hannah.

“Sure,” said Joe. “As long as we can keep an eye on him. There are a lot of little nooks and crannies that a cat could get stuck in.”

Timothy gratefully stretched when his paws hit the worn carpet, and he began to sniff the perimeter of the room. His whiskers stiffened and twitched.

“Sit, please,” Joe offered. Hannah sat on the faded plaid sofa, Joe sat beside her. “Now, do tell how you got interested in teaching. It has to be one of the hardest jobs of all.” He put his hand on the back of the sofa, near Hannah’s hair. She wished he would touch it.

“I’m from a long line of educators,” Hannah said. “My mother, who died a while back, was a high school principal. And my father….” Hannah took a deep breath. Her father. Shit on it all.

“What about him?”

“He’s an elementary school teacher. Third graders.”

“Why did you make a face when you mentioned him?”

“Ever the psychology major, aren’t you Joe?”

Joe grinned. “I suppose. So tell me.”

“Oh, let me just say that the two of us don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on a number of matters.”

“Such as?”

“Such as animal rights. In fact, I think he hates me for my views.”

Joe tilted his head. He put his foot up on the Afghan-covered trunk that served as a coffee table. “Really? Hate? That’s a pretty strong emotion toward a daughter for a mere differing of opinion.”

Hannah glanced at her watch. It was 8:02. She wished the meal was ready. Regardless, she had to be out of here by 9:20 to get to the theater on time.

“Yes, really. He had a favorite student last year, a little boy with cancer who had gone into treatment at the children’s center west town. Well, the same day the boy was admitted, there was the freeing of the animals at APD and then the bombing of the APD lab, remember?”

“Yes, I do.”

“There was no connection. I mean the hospital is on one side of town, the lab on the other. But the boy died after a month, and my father suddenly blamed the animal activists. He said it was our fault because we don’t want cancer cured. I tried to talk with him, to tell him I’d love for cancer to be cured but not at the peril of other living things. But he went on rampage. He said my mother dying was my fault because of her emphysema. My grandfather dying of heart disease was the fault of me, or at least people like me. It all fell on my head.”

“Were you in with the bombing?”

“No,” said Hannah. “I do my work in a peaceful way. I mean, what if all the animals hadn’t been released? They would have died in the bomb.”

Joe’s fingers found the top of Hannah’s head and began to stroke. For a second, Hannah couldn’t find her breath, but then she concentrated her efforts, and said, “My father writes me every so often, with all sorts of information he gets from an organization called ‘Putting People First.’ I just throw it away.”

“Good for you,” said Joe. “Want a drink?”

Hannah thought she should say yes, but doing so would take his hand from her hair.

“Well,” Hannah began.

“No?”

She looked him in the eye. “Maybe in a minute,” she said. And she knew the breathiness of her voice told him what she was thinking, what she was hoping.