Anne Tyler: Earthly Possessions

" In the sudden glow of a movie marquee Jake's face appeared sallow, unhealthy. The skin beneath his eyes was a bruised color.

"Isn't that the truth?" Mindy asked him.

"Hold it, I found us a bank. Pull over." She slammed on the brakes, throwing both of us forward, and veered into a parking space. Jake held himself upright with a hand on the dashboard. "There was something I was meaning to ask," he said slowly. "All this crazy talk has put it right out of my head." We waited.

Then his face cleared. "How much money you got?" he said to Mindy.

"Is that all you can think about?"

"I mention it in case you want a hot dog or something, while me and Charlotte are in the bank."

"Oh," she said. "Well, I got enough."

"See that little diner joint? Meet you there in five minutes. Maybe ten."

"You want me to order you two something?"

"Naw," said Jake.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Oh, why, well sure," he said, "but that hot dog is just to hold you, Mindy. After we get our money we're going somewheres good.

Isn't that right, Charlotte. Charlotte?"

"A steak place would be nice," said Mindy.

"Steak place, any place, I don't care," he told her. "Scoot." Mindy opened the door and slid out. We followed. Jake touched a finger to Mindy's wrist.

"Bye," he said.

"Bye," she said, and left, swinging her heart-shaped purse.

It was a warm, buggy night that smelled of caramel. The streets were nearly deserted. To our right was a beige brick cube with aluminum letters across the front: SECOND FEDERAL. We climbed the steps and spun through the revolving door.

My face felt tight in the sudden coolness. Tubes of harsh white light made us blink, and our feet were hushed by fuzzy carpeting. I took my place behind a man in a business suit.

"Why this here line?" Jake asked me. "This is the longest." Of course it was longest I was going to be leaving soon and I didn't want events to move too quickly. As if he guessed that, Jake moved in closer behind me. "Charlotte," he said in my ear.

"Hmm?" don't want you pulling nothing funny. Understand?" I nearly laughed.

I wondered what he imagined I could do. Leap the teller's grate in a single bound? Sign my check in some suspicious way? Charlotte Emory, hostage. The teller wouldn't even raise her eyebrows. She would glance at my signature indifferently, as if rd stated some natural condition or occupation. Oh, I knew better by now than to count on other people for help. "Don't be silly," I said to Jake. He must have seen that I meant it; he dropped back. JHs nylon jacket rustled. The man in the business suit left, folding a sheaf of bills.

"I'd like to cash a traveler's check," I said to the teller. She looked bored. I signed my name with a chained ball-point pen and passed the check through the grate. In return she counted out a hundred dollars in twenties. I counted once more and then gave my place up to a red-headed lady who was dabbing her nose with a Kleenex.

Out on the street, Jake said, "Well, that wasn't so hard."

"No," I said.

"Nothing to it."

"No." We passed a shoestore, darkened now, and then a Florist's where ugly tropical flowers glowed behind glass. We reached the diner-a railroad car surrounded by a picket fence. Through one long, greasy window we saw Mindy with her back to us, her elbows on the counter, twisting idly on her stool so her skirt belled out and swirled. We stood watching as if we had nowhere else to go, no plans in mind at all. Jake gave a sudden, sharp sigh.

"I was fixing to leave her," he said.

I nodded.

"But I can't," he said. "She's right, you know. I have some ties to her."

Mindy hoisted a hot dog into the air; she was wiping her face hi the crook of her elbow, which from here seemed as delicate as a vine or tendril.

I'm going to end up married to her, ain't I, Charlotte."

"Well, I guess that maybe you are, Jake," I said.

I've done myself in. Ain't I? Just going to end up tracking along in that life she wants." I looked at him.

"Gold and avocado," said Jake. "Patricia curtains. Babies. See what I've come to? What you staring at?"

"Nothing," I said. "Here."

"What's this?" It was money, as he could plainly see. Five new twenty-dollar bills. I had to fold his fingers around them. He said, "Charlotte?"

"I'm leaving now," I told him.

His mouth fell open.

"I can't stay on forever, Jake. You knew I'd have to go sometime."

"No, wait," he said. His voice had turned harsh and raspy.

"Tell Mindy goodbye for me."

"Charlotte, but… see, I can't quite manage without you just yet. Understand? I've got this pregnant woman on my bands, got all these… Charlotte, it ain't so bad if you're with us, you see. You act like you take it all in stride, like this is the way life really does tend to turn out. You mostly wear this little smile. I mean, we know each other, Charlotte. Don't we?"

"Yes," I said.

"And anyhow," he said. He suddenly lifted his chin. He thrust the money in his pocket and stood straighter, teetering slightly from heel to toe. "I don't know why I'm "begging, you can't leave anyhow. I've got your money."

"You can have it," I told him.

"Then how would you travel? Just tell me that."

"Oh well, HI… go to Travelers' Aid," I said.

"And your medal!"

"What?"

"I guess you want it back, don't you."

"Medal? Oh, the-"

"Well, you won't get it. I aim to keep if That's all right," I said.

I held out my hand. I didn't want to fust walk away without shaking bands.

But Jake wouldn't take it. His chin was still tilted and he watched me from across the two polished planes of his cheekbones. In the end I had to give up.

"Well, goodbye," I told him.

And I turned and set off in the direction we'd come from, where it seemed most likely Td find a bus terminal.

Then Jake said, "Charlotte?" I stopped.

"Keep going and IT! shoot you, Charlotte." I started walking again.

I'm aiming now. Hear? I've took the safety off. Ifs loaded. It's pointed at your heart." My footsteps had a steady sound, like rain. "Charlotte?" I continued up the street, already feeling the hole that would open in my back. I passed an elderly couple in evening clothes. Still no shot rang out. I saw now that it never would. I released my breath, marveling at my slipperiness: I had glided through so many dangers and emerged unscathed. As smooth as silk I swerved around a child, passed a glass-boxed woman in front of a theater. I reached the end of the block and looked back. There he stood, surprisingly small, still watching me. His collar was raised, his shoulders were hunched. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. Come to think of it, I wasn't so unscathed after all.

The police never did recapture Jake Simms. As far as I know, they've given up the search. I told them he was going to Texas, anyway.

There is somebody new in Mama's old room: a drunk from the mourners' bench who used to be an opera singer. His name is Mr. Bentham. On good days his voice is beautiful. And Miss Feather is with us the same as always, though Dr. Sisk has moved away. He married a woman from the church last July and lives in a ranch house on the other side of town.

Julian still works at the radio shop, in between his lapses; Selinda still floats in and out of our lives, and no one has yet come for Jiggs. But Onus has stopped building dollhouse furniture and moved on to the dolls themselves: diminutive wooden people, fully jointed. Their joints are little fragments of straight pins. Their faces are drawn with a needle dipped in ink. They have distinctive features, coloring, and clothes, but share an expression of surprise, as if wondering how they got here.

And I still wheel my camera around, recording up- side-down people in unexpected costumes. But I've come to believe that their borrowed medals may tell more truths than they hide. While Saul grips his pulpit as firmly as always, and studies his congregation. No doubt they are suspended in a lens of his own, equally truthful, equally flawed.