| General Fiction posted July 6, 2012 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8... 
|
  |
Max meets the widow.
A chapter in the book Repentance
Darla
by Phyllis Stewart
Max went straight to the bathroom and pulled out a long strip of dental floss. What the hell was in that bread? Must be what paint thinner tastes like. He cleaned his teeth and rinsed the caraway seeds down the drain, feeling much better after his first, and only, experience with Polish rye bread. He assumed it must be an acquired taste, one that he did not wish to acquire.
Myra had insisted he take a few cabbage rolls home, with the assurance that they'd taste even better the next day. He put the container into the refrigerator, eager to test the theory tomorrow. He was surprised to find they tasted a lot better than they smelled, and now regretted that he had politely refused a second slice of peach cobbler to bring home.
Max sat down at the table feeling more empty than usual and began counting on his fingers the number of lies he'd told to the Bonaceks. He was basically an honest man, and, even when he needed to mislead on trivial business issues, he'd choose partial truth rather than untruth, if at all possible. It hadn't been possible today, and, though he was actually quite good at inventing convincing lies on the spot, it took a lot out of him. The Bronins had always been men of honor, which was one reason the family business had succeeded so well. He hadn't been prepared for the need to misrepresent himself to this extent and hoped that the worst was over. Even if somehow he'd be recognized and connected to BADGE, the very same lie he'd told his father would cover that.
Max wasn’t sure what to make of his neighbors. He thought it odd that, while John hadn't suspected his connection to the company, Myra had figured it out quickly. He decided that John must have told her about their conversation in the alley, and she’d just made a logical assumption.
He put the Bonaceks out of his mind. They didn’t matter. They weren't the neighbors he'd come here to meet. The Cummings lived in the small white house on the other side. He still hadn't decided on the best way to introduce himself, when the answer pounded on his door.
“Hello. May I help you?” he said to a thin woman with an inch of dark roots striping her yellow-blonde hair.
“Is that black car yours?” She pointed to his car, which was still parked on the street.
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, you better move it, 'cause your rear end is stickin' over my property a good foot or more.”
He realized he was speaking to Darla Cummings. “I'm sorry. I just arrived today and meant to put it in the garage. I'll move it. My name is Max. Would you like to come in out of the heat?”
Darla's expression softened as much as possible; the scowl lines seemed to be drawn permanently on her over-tanned face. “Yeah, okay.” She stepped inside and looked around silently, pulling her tank top out from her body and shaking it to let the cool air touch her skin. “Nice and cool in here. Pretty fancy too. This all brand new stuff?”
“Yes. The house was empty so I had to have it furnished.”
“Looks like it come from Souttera's at that new mall down the highway. I think I seen that gray leather couch in the window. Way too pricey, if you ask me.”
“Then I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you before I hired a decorator.” He smiled, hoping she'd take it as a compliment.
“Hell, I got enough trouble findin' things for my own place. Goodwill sells out the nice stuff in like an hour. Millie would never recognize this place now. She told me they sold the house to some single guy, so I guess if you're on your own and got the money to waste… What do you do, anyhow? That Lexus looks pretty new.”
“I work at home on the computer, doing consulting for various companies.”
“Shit. If I had me a computer maybe I could stay home and just take checks out of the mailbox. But I gotta work on my feet all day or all night down at Walmart and don't get paid shit. Had an interview at the Post Office, but they hired that fat slob, Mary Jo Burns. Went to school with her. Dumb as a stump. Don't know what they was thinkin' but now she got government health insurance.”
“Would you like to sit down and have a cold drink?”
She looked at him curiously. “Yeah, matter of fact I would.”
Max led the way to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for Darla. “What would you like? I have lemonade and Diet Pepsi.” He opened the refrigerator door.
“Is that beer? I'll have one of them.”
Max put the bottle on the table and took a tall glass from the freezer, but she waved him off, satisfied with the bottle, which she'd already started on. After drinking half a can of putrid ferment at John's house, the last thing Max wanted was beer, so he filled the frosted glass with lemonade and sat down at the table.
“This is real good brew. Never had this kind.”
“You’re welcome to have another if you like.” He thought if he could loosen her up with alcohol, she'd be freer with information.
“So, Walmart doesn't offer a health insurance plan, is that right?”
“Oh, they got one, but it ain't worth shit. If I want it I gotta pay over $3000 a year 'cause I smoke, and then there's a $3000 deductible if I need to use it. I make like $300 a week, so you figure it out. No way I can afford that and still put gas in the car and food on the table for me and Gary.”
He saw his opportunity and got her another beer to keep her talking. “Is Gary your husband?”
“He's my boy. My husband's dead.” She took a swig from the new bottle.
“I'm sorry to hear that. So yours is the only income. That must be difficult.”
“Yeah, especially 'cause Frank let his car insurance lapse. And the asshole that ran him off the road didn't even stop to leave his insurance information. He got away with murder. The bastard's gonna rot in Hell but that won't help Gary. You see, he was hurt real bad.”
“That's awful. Does he need medical care because of it?”
Darla seemed eager to tell him the whole story, and Max didn't need to pretend concern when she told him that Gary might never walk again, confirming what John had said. He was able to go to high school since the district picked him up in a special bus with a lift. He had a modern electric wheelchair, and she’d had a ramp installed at the back door, where the porch had only one step. As Max already knew, these things and medical bills had quickly eaten up Frank’s small life insurance policy.
“What do the doctors say he needs that he isn't getting now?”
“Surgery might help but they ain't even sure. Not till they get an MRI, whatever that is. All I know is I can't afford it. But it doesn't really matter, 'cause I sure as hell can't afford the surgery. So he's gonna just have to learn to live with it. Life ain't easy for any of us.”
“I'd like to meet him.”
“No, you wouldn't. Trust me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Since the accident, he's all temper. Full of hate. Hell, I'm his mother, and I can hardly put up with it. But I'm stuck with him.”
Max had no idea how to respond, so he said nothing. This was not going to be as simple as he'd hoped.
“Don't have my purse. You got any cigarettes?”
“I don't smoke.”
“Guess I should quit anyhow. It's one more thing I can't afford.” She looked down at the table and began playing with a bottle cap.
Max went back to the topic of insurance. “Have you heard anything about the new company at the mill? Maybe they'll have good benefits.”
“Yeah, everybody’s talkin’ about it. Supposed to go there at noon to apply. Probably have to wait in line all day in this heat.”
“I believe it's taking place inside. Why don't you give it a try?”
“You know, I may as well. Can't be any worse than what I got now, right?” She let out a loud sigh. “Well, thanks for the beer. I'd better go see what Gary's up to. You never know with that kid.”
“I'll walk you out and move my car.”
Max drove around to the alley, parked in the garage, and rushed back inside to make a phone call.
“Ron, it’s Max. Are you all set for tomorrow? … Good. I have a specific hiring request. There’s a woman named Darla Cummings, in her thirties, who lives next door to me. I just learned that she and her invalid son are having a hard time financially since she lost her husband, and she can’t afford the medical care he needs. … Yes, my neighbor. What I need you to do is find out what skills she might have, or be able to learn, and give her the highest paying position you can find. … No. Not good wages. I want her in a salaried position, with a two-year contract and the same benefits as middle management. … Well, if she isn’t qualified for anything, create a new position if you have to. Just don’t put her on the phone with clients. … I think you’ll see why. And one more thing. Have her start next week with full benefits, effective immediately. … I know we’re not opening for a month. Give her a broom if you have to. Just get her working. … I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.”
To be continued...
Characters
Maxwell Bronin -- 33
Dr. Caroline Bronin --34, ex-wife
Dr. Chad Dillon -- Caroline's business partner
John & Myra Bonacek -- next door neighbors on other side, have married daughter, Stella
Frank Cummings -- next door neighbor killed on highway
Darla Cummings -- Frank's widow
Gary Cummings -- 15, Frank's son, injured in the accident
Max went straight to the bathroom and pulled out a long strip of dental floss. What the hell was in that bread? Must be what paint thinner tastes like. He cleaned his teeth and rinsed the caraway seeds down the drain, feeling much better after his first, and only, experience with Polish rye bread. He assumed it must be an acquired taste, one that he did not wish to acquire.
Myra had insisted he take a few cabbage rolls home, with the assurance that they'd taste even better the next day. He put the container into the refrigerator, eager to test the theory tomorrow. He was surprised to find they tasted a lot better than they smelled, and now regretted that he had politely refused a second slice of peach cobbler to bring home.
Max sat down at the table feeling more empty than usual and began counting on his fingers the number of lies he'd told to the Bonaceks. He was basically an honest man, and, even when he needed to mislead on trivial business issues, he'd choose partial truth rather than untruth, if at all possible. It hadn't been possible today, and, though he was actually quite good at inventing convincing lies on the spot, it took a lot out of him. The Bronins had always been men of honor, which was one reason the family business had succeeded so well. He hadn't been prepared for the need to misrepresent himself to this extent and hoped that the worst was over. Even if somehow he'd be recognized and connected to BADGE, the very same lie he'd told his father would cover that.
Max wasn’t sure what to make of his neighbors. He thought it odd that, while John hadn't suspected his connection to the company, Myra had figured it out quickly. He decided that John must have told her about their conversation in the alley, and she’d just made a logical assumption.
He put the Bonaceks out of his mind. They didn’t matter. They weren't the neighbors he'd come here to meet. The Cummings lived in the small white house on the other side. He still hadn't decided on the best way to introduce himself, when the answer pounded on his door.
“Hello. May I help you?” he said to a thin woman with an inch of dark roots striping her yellow-blonde hair.
“Is that black car yours?” She pointed to his car, which was still parked on the street.
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, you better move it, 'cause your rear end is stickin' over my property a good foot or more.”
He realized he was speaking to Darla Cummings. “I'm sorry. I just arrived today and meant to put it in the garage. I'll move it. My name is Max. Would you like to come in out of the heat?”
Darla's expression softened as much as possible; the scowl lines seemed to be drawn permanently on her over-tanned face. “Yeah, okay.” She stepped inside and looked around silently, pulling her tank top out from her body and shaking it to let the cool air touch her skin. “Nice and cool in here. Pretty fancy too. This all brand new stuff?”
“Yes. The house was empty so I had to have it furnished.”
“Looks like it come from Souttera's at that new mall down the highway. I think I seen that gray leather couch in the window. Way too pricey, if you ask me.”
“Then I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you before I hired a decorator.” He smiled, hoping she'd take it as a compliment.
“Hell, I got enough trouble findin' things for my own place. Goodwill sells out the nice stuff in like an hour. Millie would never recognize this place now. She told me they sold the house to some single guy, so I guess if you're on your own and got the money to waste… What do you do, anyhow? That Lexus looks pretty new.”
“I work at home on the computer, doing consulting for various companies.”
“Shit. If I had me a computer maybe I could stay home and just take checks out of the mailbox. But I gotta work on my feet all day or all night down at Walmart and don't get paid shit. Had an interview at the Post Office, but they hired that fat slob, Mary Jo Burns. Went to school with her. Dumb as a stump. Don't know what they was thinkin' but now she got government health insurance.”
“Would you like to sit down and have a cold drink?”
She looked at him curiously. “Yeah, matter of fact I would.”
Max led the way to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for Darla. “What would you like? I have lemonade and Diet Pepsi.” He opened the refrigerator door.
“Is that beer? I'll have one of them.”
Max put the bottle on the table and took a tall glass from the freezer, but she waved him off, satisfied with the bottle, which she'd already started on. After drinking half a can of putrid ferment at John's house, the last thing Max wanted was beer, so he filled the frosted glass with lemonade and sat down at the table.
“This is real good brew. Never had this kind.”
“You’re welcome to have another if you like.” He thought if he could loosen her up with alcohol, she'd be freer with information.
“So, Walmart doesn't offer a health insurance plan, is that right?”
“Oh, they got one, but it ain't worth shit. If I want it I gotta pay over $3000 a year 'cause I smoke, and then there's a $3000 deductible if I need to use it. I make like $300 a week, so you figure it out. No way I can afford that and still put gas in the car and food on the table for me and Gary.”
He saw his opportunity and got her another beer to keep her talking. “Is Gary your husband?”
“He's my boy. My husband's dead.” She took a swig from the new bottle.
“I'm sorry to hear that. So yours is the only income. That must be difficult.”
“Yeah, especially 'cause Frank let his car insurance lapse. And the asshole that ran him off the road didn't even stop to leave his insurance information. He got away with murder. The bastard's gonna rot in Hell but that won't help Gary. You see, he was hurt real bad.”
“That's awful. Does he need medical care because of it?”
Darla seemed eager to tell him the whole story, and Max didn't need to pretend concern when she told him that Gary might never walk again, confirming what John had said. He was able to go to high school since the district picked him up in a special bus with a lift. He had a modern electric wheelchair, and she’d had a ramp installed at the back door, where the porch had only one step. As Max already knew, these things and medical bills had quickly eaten up Frank’s small life insurance policy.
“What do the doctors say he needs that he isn't getting now?”
“Surgery might help but they ain't even sure. Not till they get an MRI, whatever that is. All I know is I can't afford it. But it doesn't really matter, 'cause I sure as hell can't afford the surgery. So he's gonna just have to learn to live with it. Life ain't easy for any of us.”
“I'd like to meet him.”
“No, you wouldn't. Trust me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Since the accident, he's all temper. Full of hate. Hell, I'm his mother, and I can hardly put up with it. But I'm stuck with him.”
Max had no idea how to respond, so he said nothing. This was not going to be as simple as he'd hoped.
“Don't have my purse. You got any cigarettes?”
“I don't smoke.”
“Guess I should quit anyhow. It's one more thing I can't afford.” She looked down at the table and began playing with a bottle cap.
Max went back to the topic of insurance. “Have you heard anything about the new company at the mill? Maybe they'll have good benefits.”
“Yeah, everybody’s talkin’ about it. Supposed to go there at noon to apply. Probably have to wait in line all day in this heat.”
“I believe it's taking place inside. Why don't you give it a try?”
“You know, I may as well. Can't be any worse than what I got now, right?” She let out a loud sigh. “Well, thanks for the beer. I'd better go see what Gary's up to. You never know with that kid.”
“I'll walk you out and move my car.”
Max drove around to the alley, parked in the garage, and rushed back inside to make a phone call.
“Ron, it’s Max. Are you all set for tomorrow? … Good. I have a specific hiring request. There’s a woman named Darla Cummings, in her thirties, who lives next door to me. I just learned that she and her invalid son are having a hard time financially since she lost her husband, and she can’t afford the medical care he needs. … Yes, my neighbor. What I need you to do is find out what skills she might have, or be able to learn, and give her the highest paying position you can find. … No. Not good wages. I want her in a salaried position, with a two-year contract and the same benefits as middle management. … Well, if she isn’t qualified for anything, create a new position if you have to. Just don’t put her on the phone with clients. … I think you’ll see why. And one more thing. Have her start next week with full benefits, effective immediately. … I know we’re not opening for a month. Give her a broom if you have to. Just get her working. … I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.”
To be continued...
Characters
Maxwell Bronin -- 33
Dr. Caroline Bronin --34, ex-wife
Dr. Chad Dillon -- Caroline's business partner
John & Myra Bonacek -- next door neighbors on other side, have married daughter, Stella
Frank Cummings -- next door neighbor killed on highway
Darla Cummings -- Frank's widow
Gary Cummings -- 15, Frank's son, injured in the accident
Myra had insisted he take a few cabbage rolls home, with the assurance that they'd taste even better the next day. He put the container into the refrigerator, eager to test the theory tomorrow. He was surprised to find they tasted a lot better than they smelled, and now regretted that he had politely refused a second slice of peach cobbler to bring home.
Max sat down at the table feeling more empty than usual and began counting on his fingers the number of lies he'd told to the Bonaceks. He was basically an honest man, and, even when he needed to mislead on trivial business issues, he'd choose partial truth rather than untruth, if at all possible. It hadn't been possible today, and, though he was actually quite good at inventing convincing lies on the spot, it took a lot out of him. The Bronins had always been men of honor, which was one reason the family business had succeeded so well. He hadn't been prepared for the need to misrepresent himself to this extent and hoped that the worst was over. Even if somehow he'd be recognized and connected to BADGE, the very same lie he'd told his father would cover that.
Max wasn’t sure what to make of his neighbors. He thought it odd that, while John hadn't suspected his connection to the company, Myra had figured it out quickly. He decided that John must have told her about their conversation in the alley, and she’d just made a logical assumption.
He put the Bonaceks out of his mind. They didn’t matter. They weren't the neighbors he'd come here to meet. The Cummings lived in the small white house on the other side. He still hadn't decided on the best way to introduce himself, when the answer pounded on his door.
“Hello. May I help you?” he said to a thin woman with an inch of dark roots striping her yellow-blonde hair.
“Is that black car yours?” She pointed to his car, which was still parked on the street.
“Yes, it is.”
“Well, you better move it, 'cause your rear end is stickin' over my property a good foot or more.”
He realized he was speaking to Darla Cummings. “I'm sorry. I just arrived today and meant to put it in the garage. I'll move it. My name is Max. Would you like to come in out of the heat?”
Darla's expression softened as much as possible; the scowl lines seemed to be drawn permanently on her over-tanned face. “Yeah, okay.” She stepped inside and looked around silently, pulling her tank top out from her body and shaking it to let the cool air touch her skin. “Nice and cool in here. Pretty fancy too. This all brand new stuff?”
“Yes. The house was empty so I had to have it furnished.”
“Looks like it come from Souttera's at that new mall down the highway. I think I seen that gray leather couch in the window. Way too pricey, if you ask me.”
“Then I'm sorry I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you before I hired a decorator.” He smiled, hoping she'd take it as a compliment.
“Hell, I got enough trouble findin' things for my own place. Goodwill sells out the nice stuff in like an hour. Millie would never recognize this place now. She told me they sold the house to some single guy, so I guess if you're on your own and got the money to waste… What do you do, anyhow? That Lexus looks pretty new.”
“I work at home on the computer, doing consulting for various companies.”
“Shit. If I had me a computer maybe I could stay home and just take checks out of the mailbox. But I gotta work on my feet all day or all night down at Walmart and don't get paid shit. Had an interview at the Post Office, but they hired that fat slob, Mary Jo Burns. Went to school with her. Dumb as a stump. Don't know what they was thinkin' but now she got government health insurance.”
“Would you like to sit down and have a cold drink?”
She looked at him curiously. “Yeah, matter of fact I would.”
Max led the way to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for Darla. “What would you like? I have lemonade and Diet Pepsi.” He opened the refrigerator door.
“Is that beer? I'll have one of them.”
Max put the bottle on the table and took a tall glass from the freezer, but she waved him off, satisfied with the bottle, which she'd already started on. After drinking half a can of putrid ferment at John's house, the last thing Max wanted was beer, so he filled the frosted glass with lemonade and sat down at the table.
“This is real good brew. Never had this kind.”
“You’re welcome to have another if you like.” He thought if he could loosen her up with alcohol, she'd be freer with information.
“So, Walmart doesn't offer a health insurance plan, is that right?”
“Oh, they got one, but it ain't worth shit. If I want it I gotta pay over $3000 a year 'cause I smoke, and then there's a $3000 deductible if I need to use it. I make like $300 a week, so you figure it out. No way I can afford that and still put gas in the car and food on the table for me and Gary.”
He saw his opportunity and got her another beer to keep her talking. “Is Gary your husband?”
“He's my boy. My husband's dead.” She took a swig from the new bottle.
“I'm sorry to hear that. So yours is the only income. That must be difficult.”
“Yeah, especially 'cause Frank let his car insurance lapse. And the asshole that ran him off the road didn't even stop to leave his insurance information. He got away with murder. The bastard's gonna rot in Hell but that won't help Gary. You see, he was hurt real bad.”
“That's awful. Does he need medical care because of it?”
Darla seemed eager to tell him the whole story, and Max didn't need to pretend concern when she told him that Gary might never walk again, confirming what John had said. He was able to go to high school since the district picked him up in a special bus with a lift. He had a modern electric wheelchair, and she’d had a ramp installed at the back door, where the porch had only one step. As Max already knew, these things and medical bills had quickly eaten up Frank’s small life insurance policy.
“What do the doctors say he needs that he isn't getting now?”
“Surgery might help but they ain't even sure. Not till they get an MRI, whatever that is. All I know is I can't afford it. But it doesn't really matter, 'cause I sure as hell can't afford the surgery. So he's gonna just have to learn to live with it. Life ain't easy for any of us.”
“I'd like to meet him.”
“No, you wouldn't. Trust me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Since the accident, he's all temper. Full of hate. Hell, I'm his mother, and I can hardly put up with it. But I'm stuck with him.”
Max had no idea how to respond, so he said nothing. This was not going to be as simple as he'd hoped.
“Don't have my purse. You got any cigarettes?”
“I don't smoke.”
“Guess I should quit anyhow. It's one more thing I can't afford.” She looked down at the table and began playing with a bottle cap.
Max went back to the topic of insurance. “Have you heard anything about the new company at the mill? Maybe they'll have good benefits.”
“Yeah, everybody’s talkin’ about it. Supposed to go there at noon to apply. Probably have to wait in line all day in this heat.”
“I believe it's taking place inside. Why don't you give it a try?”
“You know, I may as well. Can't be any worse than what I got now, right?” She let out a loud sigh. “Well, thanks for the beer. I'd better go see what Gary's up to. You never know with that kid.”
“I'll walk you out and move my car.”
Max drove around to the alley, parked in the garage, and rushed back inside to make a phone call.
“Ron, it’s Max. Are you all set for tomorrow? … Good. I have a specific hiring request. There’s a woman named Darla Cummings, in her thirties, who lives next door to me. I just learned that she and her invalid son are having a hard time financially since she lost her husband, and she can’t afford the medical care he needs. … Yes, my neighbor. What I need you to do is find out what skills she might have, or be able to learn, and give her the highest paying position you can find. … No. Not good wages. I want her in a salaried position, with a two-year contract and the same benefits as middle management. … Well, if she isn’t qualified for anything, create a new position if you have to. Just don’t put her on the phone with clients. … I think you’ll see why. And one more thing. Have her start next week with full benefits, effective immediately. … I know we’re not opening for a month. Give her a broom if you have to. Just get her working. … I’ll talk to you tomorrow night.”
To be continued...
Characters
Maxwell Bronin -- 33
Dr. Caroline Bronin --34, ex-wife
Dr. Chad Dillon -- Caroline's business partner
John & Myra Bonacek -- next door neighbors on other side, have married daughter, Stella
Frank Cummings -- next door neighbor killed on highway
Darla Cummings -- Frank's widow
Gary Cummings -- 15, Frank's son, injured in the accident
 Recognized |
|
Many of the residents of Prairie Mills use incorrect grammar. Please do not count it as spag.
_____
Here is the blurb from the back of the book.
Maxwell Bronin III had it all--money, power, social standing, and at one time a beautiful wife, yet happiness had always eluded him. One day, speeding to get to a meeting, he hit a car on the Interstate and kept right on going. Later he learned that a man had been killed and his teenaged son left in a wheelchair.
The usually shallow, uncaring Max could not shake a painful sense of guilt. In a desperate attempt at relief, he set out to make things right. Since turning himself in meant prison time, he came up with an alternate plan. Leaving his plush lake-view condo in Chicago, he moved temporarily to a run-down industrial town in Ohio, next door to the family he had injured, hoping to find a way to make amends. It turned out to be not as easy as he'd hoped.
This is the story of how he succeeded, how he failed, and how numerous lives were changed, including his own. The book raises the question, "How does anyone know the right thing to do?"
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. _____
Here is the blurb from the back of the book.
Maxwell Bronin III had it all--money, power, social standing, and at one time a beautiful wife, yet happiness had always eluded him. One day, speeding to get to a meeting, he hit a car on the Interstate and kept right on going. Later he learned that a man had been killed and his teenaged son left in a wheelchair.
The usually shallow, uncaring Max could not shake a painful sense of guilt. In a desperate attempt at relief, he set out to make things right. Since turning himself in meant prison time, he came up with an alternate plan. Leaving his plush lake-view condo in Chicago, he moved temporarily to a run-down industrial town in Ohio, next door to the family he had injured, hoping to find a way to make amends. It turned out to be not as easy as he'd hoped.
This is the story of how he succeeded, how he failed, and how numerous lives were changed, including his own. The book raises the question, "How does anyone know the right thing to do?"
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