The Introvert - chapter two



























Two


I was disappointed when waking up. The white clad figure, floating across my vision wasn’t an angel. I finally got an eye open. Things were still fuzzy but I could see. Something wasn’t right. I raised a hand and pain exploded in muted waves down my side. Carefully, I felt bandages on my face. One eye was completely obscured. To my left was an IV pole, a machine that beeped softly and a window with drawn shades. A tiny plant with purple leaves sat on the sill.

“Mr. Funk? Are you waking up?”

The non-angel's face swam into view. “Mr. Funk?”

“Water.” I croaked.

“We’ll start you off with a few ice chips. I’ll get the doctor.”

When the guy appeared, he poked, prodded and consulted his chart. It was like reading from a shopping list. Detached retina, fractured cheek bone, five stitches in the back of the head, three broken ribs, mild concussion and, oh yeah, a broken finger.

“You’ll live.” He nodded with authority. “Plan on a long and slow recovery. A couple of days and we’ll get you out of here. The police have been around with questions. I can keep them at bay for a while. You have friends out in waiting. Feel up to company?”

“Not yet.”

“Fine. No hurry. I’ll check back in.”

The nurse brought a cup of ice chips. They tasted like wine from the Gods. Something about the doctor was nagging at me. I slept. Nighttime and a muted room. I woke and thought of the Doctor’s black hair. Julian and the Roadside! The misadventure came back, piece by piece.

Monday morning and I let Karl and Rosalee into the room. I didn’t want to but it had to be done. She led the charge, clutching her throat. Her kiss left wetness on my cheek. Karl sniffed and looked at his feet. Put an arm over her shoulder.

“Lord, child, you’re a mess but we’re going to get you better,” she patted my hand. “You can stay with us a while. We got a room all fixed up.”

“I’m going home.”

“What? Who’s going to take care of you?”

“Rufus.”

She rolled her eyes and Karl snorted. “Don’t count on it,” he said. “I’ve been feeding the mutt for you. Had to bring a broom from the store to keep him off me. I swear, one of these days, I’m going to quit being so nice.”

“Hush up about that dog,” Rosalee scolded. “You’re coming home with us,” she gave me the look.

Hey, I was drugged and already wounded. Her arrows were just bouncing off. “No. I’m going home. Does anybody know what happened to my car?”

“The police have it,” Karl explained. “They want to talk to you. Find out what happened. I found the car about a mile up River Road. You was edged off the shoulder. What’s going on, Low?”

The room got real quiet. A car horn blew two times from the parking lot. “I’m not real clear. The Doctor said my memory might come and go for a while. The concussion, you know.”
“Don’t worry yourself about that business right now,” Rosalee adjusted my blanket. “Call your brother,” she patted my cheek and they left.

Chambers must have been waiting on the other side of the door. He breezed right in with a different partner from the last time. The kid looked like he should be in class, cramming for Algebra. Chambers hadn’t changed since Grace’s investigation. Same thick gray curls, brushy brow and a mustache that was thick enough to paint a house. Even the suit was the same. I spotted the grease stain on the lapel. It was a struggle to sit up.

He pulled the familiar pad and pen. The guy probably took it with him to the john to record bowel movements.

“Mr. Funk, we meet again. You look like shit.”

“Thanks. You too.”

He might have smiled. It was hard to tell with all that hair hiding his lips. The guy had a rumpled bearing and a defeated demeanor. From experience, I knew better than to fall for the act. Those sad, hound dog eyes didn’t miss anything. Even as he flipped pages from the note book, he was cataloguing the room.

“So. Want to talk about what happened?”

“No, not really.”

“Who assaulted you, Mr. Funk?”

“I ran into a door.”

“Hear that Jenkins,” he turned to his partner. “The guy’s a comedian.”

“Yeah, he ought to be on tv.”

Chambers walked over to the window, touched the plant with his finger. He turned.

“African Violet. My wife is crazy about those things. Mind telling me where you were on Friday the thirteenth?”

“Home.”

Chambers jotted in his pad. “How did you end up on South River on Saturday morning?”

“I can’t remember. Are you going to arrest me?”

“Well, there's the DUI and improperly parking on a roadway. I could stick you with those but here's the thing. Most people that get assaulted practically beg us to give a statement. You clamming up stinks to high heaven. You’re hiding something. Let’s talk about gravel dust. Your car was coated in it. Funny thing about a vehicle. It absorbs the environment. Rainy day you get mud splatter. Long highway trips, road grime. Jenkins, where’s a guy going to pick up gravel dust?”

“Well, the flea market, for one. The whole place is graveled and on a dry day, it gets everywhere.”

“Not exactly the kind of place to get assaulted,” Chambers was stroking his mustache and looking right at me. “Mr. Funk, you have a nice day.”

The guy was sharper than a bad soprano. If he wanted, he could bust me on a minor charge but Chambers was looking at the bigger picture. Sure, I could give up Julian and the girls. Maybe get bagged for solicitation in the process. That’s what I wanted to avoid. The whole, messy business would dredge up Grace’s death again. In the eyes of the town, not only would I be a killer but a pervert.

The only thing that Rosalee was dredging up was a Mother’s care. She supervised my discharge. The orderly was cautioned about driving the wheelchair too fast. Karl, chastised for almost leaving the extra cups and my shoes behind. We drove straight to the grocery store. She wanted to stock my fridge and handed Karl the list.

“Me? You want me to go in and get all this?”

“No Karl. Read it back to me so I can memorize it. Of course I want you to go in!”

“But…you always do the shopping!”

“Karl. Get out of the car.”

We watched him walk into the store. Rosalee turned and looked at me. I looked at her. Something that I never got tired of doing. The woman was beautiful. Smooth skin the color of creamed coffee. Brown eyes with golden flecks. She was an African Princess. Drape her in burlap and she would still be regal. Right now, her nostrils were flaring. She was pissed. Seemed kind of cute considering my pain pills were kicking in.

“What?” I went for the innocent look. Kind of hard when grinning like a Jack-o-lantern.

“Do you think this is funny?” She asked. “You missed our dinner, Saturday night. The circumstances leading up to it, I don’t even want to know. Well, I do but regardless, the time is now. Nothing’s changed. If you don’t get help, I’m done.”

“Why are you making this some kind of vendetta? I’m minding my business and not hurting you!”

“Would you listen to yourself? That’s like saying that Grace’s death didn’t hurt. You want to wallow in a dark place and not lift a finger? Go ahead but don’t expect me to watch. I can’t. Not anymore.”

“I’m doing ok.”

“Look in the mirror,” She turned and went for a tissue.

How could I explain myself? The spark that I was feeling for the first time in two years was kindled by an unfortunate stop at the Roadside Bar. It was one thing to sit alone and consider the expiration date on your life. Quite another for someone else to make the decision. Somewhat ironic that an ass kicking might have just saved my life. I looked out the window. Karl was crossing asphalt, pushing a buggy. He had an opened bag of Oreo’s under his arm and two cookies in hand. Rosalee always nagged about his weight. He didn’t know it yet but the next ass kicking belonged to him
.
Our first problem when arriving at my house was Rufus. He came shooting out the door when Karl unlocked it. I was slowly moving up the front walk with the aid of a cane. Rufus took one look at me and began snarling. With my bruised face and a gauze taped eye, who could blame him? The sound of my voice gave him pause. He cocked his head and sniffed the air. As soon as I held out a hand, he began barking.

“Go on, dog! We don’t have time for this,” Rosalee yelled.

She tossed a pair of balled up hospital socks in his direction. Rufus put his nose to the offering, picked it up and ran across the yard.

“Nifty move,” I said. “I appreciate you guys helping me out. It’s hard to imagine not having you. This getting help thing that you’re so worked up about? I’m going to remain open to it. We’ll see where it goes.”

“Well, at least they didn’t knock all the sense out of you,” she patted my arm and held the door.

I shuffled in, scanning the room to make sure that the twenty-two pistol wasn’t lying out in plain view. Rosalee would have a fit if she saw it. Thankfully, the gun was put away but she was having a fit anyway.

“Good God, this place is smelling ripe! Karl, open some windows in here. We need fresh air. A good cleaning wouldn’t hurt either. Speaking of cleaning,” she turned to me, “it wouldn’t hurt you, either. I’m not talking sponge bath here. Karl can help you with the bandages.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute.” He paused with two bags of groceries. “I didn’t sign up for that job. Hire one of them male nurses. They get paid for that stuff.”

“We're not hiring anybody. You want me to help Lowell undress?Don’t tell me that you haven’t ever seen this man naked. You guys played football didn’t you? Took showers together? How is this any different?”

“Yes Karl, do tell. Have you grown insecure with your own masculinity after all these years?” I tried to keep a straight face. “Maybe if we put on helmets and snapped some wet towels at each other’s butts, you’d be more comfortable.”

“You’re not helping,” Rosalee admonished.
“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. K’s off the hook, I’ll take my own shower. If I run into problems, I’ll holler. You can send Karl in, I’ll try to cover myself up.”

“No problem,” he shot back. “Best I remember, there ain’t much to see.”

“All right, boys. This isn’t the locker room. Karl, get the cold stuff in the fridge before it spoils. I swear, sometimes you act like you’re ten years old.”

I didn’t hang around to hear his opinion of that comment. Get the shower out of the way, pop pain pills and plant myself in the recliner. That was the plan. Things got tricky, fast. With broken ribs, every movement is calculated to minimize pain. Getting undressed is torture. There wasn’t any chance of removing the bandages. Everything got wet. I scrubbed what I could reach and even washed my hair, being careful with the stitches. When Rosalee cracked the door, I was sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to dry off.

“Here’s some clean clothes. At least I hope they are clean. You better not have gotten your bandages wet.”

“Just a little.”

“Good Lord! You know I’ve got a limit on patience. Now I’ve got to play Doctor.”

She did a good job with new bandages as I sat at the kitchen table. A schedule was made out with Doctor appointments, meds, retrieving my car from impound and a phone number for a therapist. She also had numbers for a cleaning service and a guy to do yard work.

“Jesus, Rosalee, is there anything about me that doesn’t need work?”

Karl’s laughter was a slow rumble. “My man, you won’t know yourself when this is all over.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” She looked over the top of her glasses.

“Nothing babe. Just interjecting a bit of levity to the situation.”

“Is that what you call it? Just listen and save the comedic relief for another time. I need you to stay here tonight and watch our patient.”

“I can do that but I don’t have any clean underwear.”

“And you decided that today is the day to be bothered by that? I swear, if it wasn’t for me, you’d go a week in the same pair. I….what in the world is that noise?”

“Rufus, butting the storm door. He wants in,” I explained.

Karl jumped up. “Hold on, let me get a broom. I swear, I don’t know why that dog has it in for me.”

Rufus wasn’t too crazy about me either with the bandaged eye. After Rosalee left, he sat on the hearth, growling and watching our every move. Karl kicked back on the couch but kept the broom within reach.

“That dog is giving me the creeps the way he’s staring,” he said.

“Just ignore him. He’ll get bored and go back in the bedroom to watch tv.”
“All right. So, lets talk. What in the heck happened to you? That cop, Chambers came by the store. Bought a gallon of paint. He was real interested in what you’ve been doing. What do I know? Laying around with that mutt of yours, watching the grass grow. That’s what I told him.”

“Good answer. If you don’t know anything, you can’t say anything.”

“True but cops sniffing around? Come on, Low, what have you got yourself into?”

I knew I had to give him something. “I stopped for a hotdog at the Roadside, drank too much and got sucker punched by a pimp.”

Ever noticed how words can suck the air out of a room? Rufus scratched, yawned and trotted into the kitchen. I listened to him crunching dry food from his bowl, lapping water and his nails tapping across linoleum, going to the bedroom.

“You’re messing around with prostitutes?

“Just one time. You can see why I don’t want to involve the police. I figure you can tell Rosalee that I got caught by a jealous husband.”

“Yeah, that’ll work. Thank God you agreed to counseling. That will keep her off my butt and your’s too. Anyway, maybe you need it. I mean, prostitutes?”

I wasn’t too proud of it, either. Sometimes you mess up and pay the price. My broken body was a testament to the cost of bad decisions. K Karl was solid and had my back. I wasn’t going to involve him any further in my shenanigans other than to help get my car out of impound. That part worried me. Julian and the girls had cleaned out my billfold, probably a couple of hundred bucks. I was willing to bet my last dime that they had taken the forty-four revolver as well. Registered to me, it could prove problematic in their hands. I needed to get that gun back. Just how to do that safely could be a problem. What did I know about the gang? They hung out at the Roadside bar and drove an early model Lincoln, black with a missing hubcap. That’s the last thing I saw while on the ground, the naked wheel. Other than that, Linda had mentioned the cousin, working for a Dentist in Mill Valley. How many Dentists were there in town? I’d make a list and try to put a plan together.

In the morning, Karl had his own plan. A good cook, he was in the kitchen, fixing breakfast. I woke in the recliner, sore, hurting and looking for my pills. The smell of fresh food made me think of Grace. Weekends we liked to sleep in, make love and get up to cook. After the meal, we would go back to bed, sometimes staying all day. Some things you never get over. You simply learn to live with it. Nobody ever said that life was fair.

“Come on, everything’s ready. I got to eat and get to work,” Karl stuck his head in the door. “You keep sleeping and I’m giving your part to “Rufus. That dog’s been drooling the whole time I’ve been cooking. Ain’t tried to bite me once. I think I’ve found my connection. Food!”

“Yeah, well, give him bacon and you’ve got a friend for life.”
All I wanted was coffee. I ignored my plate and watched Karl eat. He was a two fisted guy, not wasting any motion. Still, he managed to carry on a conversation the whole time.

“Yard guy should be here soon. I’ll let him in the shed to get the mower and stuff.Don't forget the eye doctor at ten. He doesn’t have a car so send him over for my truck. You guys can work out the wages. I don’t know, eight, ten bucks an hour. I’ll drop by later to check on things.”

I took a bite of toast, “There’s one small problem about the shed. I’ve kind of got…two marijuana plants out there.”
Karl paused to look at me. He resumed chewing but put down the fork. After a sip of coffee, he wiped his mouth and put both hands on the table.

“No, I’m not on drugs,” I headed him off. “It’s a strain that I call Jim Weed.”

“I don’t care if you call it Jack and Jill weed. Have you gone completely off the edge?”

“Remember Jim from high school?”

Of course he did. One story followed another as we remembered our school days. It’s always a little bit sad to realize that those times are some of the best of your life. To be carefree and unencumbered with the harsh reality of life is special. Sad that you can only appreciate that fact, long after it’s gone.

He still wasn't keen on the pot plants and mentioned Chambers. The detective would like nothing better than to stumble upon my garden. I promised to think about the matter and ate a portion of my omelet. Karl left to drag out the yard gear, water plants and lock up before heading across the street for work. Rufus got the leftover bacon. That made him happy. When the door bell rang, I followed my barking companion to meet the yard man.

He wasn’t what I expected. A tall bag of bones in scruffy tennis shoes, baggy jeans and worn out Braves jersey stood on the porch. His thatch of red hair reminded me of Opie, the kid from the old tv show. He even had red freckles across his cheeks. The face didn’t fit the profile, though. He was rodent like with long pointed nose, tight mouth and weak chin. The ears stood off his head like two opened car doors. A back pack was slung over one shoulder. Knowing Rufus’s dislike for squirrels, I expected him to have a go at this red headed rat, standing before us. I picked up the dog and eased out onto the porch.

“Are you the yard guy?”

“I guess so.”

“I expected someone…older. Not that it matters. I’m Lowell. Is eight dollars an hour okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“And you can drive me to my appointments?”

“Yes sir.”

I waited but wasn’t going to get anything else from him. “So, do you have a name?”

“Rodney Wayne. My friends call me Hot Rod.”

“Well, fine. I guess you can get started. The mower’s around back. I usually let my dog out during the day. He likes to chase squirrels. If he tries to bite you, kick him away.”

“What’s his name?”

That question surprised me. I hadn’t thought of introducing Rufus and did so. Rodney held out a hand and let the dog sniff his scent.

“Most dogs like me okay,” he scratched Rufus behind the ears.

“That’s a first. He usually tries to bite strangers.”
“Maybe he doesn’t find me all that strange,” Rodney looked at me for the first time.

I paused. The kid’s eyes were the lightest blue I had ever seen. Almost white. The effect was unsettling. I was looking at an eerie set of twin lasers. The first to look away, I put Rufus down and he followed Rodney out into the yard.

Strange kid, I decided and went in to clean up the kitchen. The effort wore me out and I sat down for a break, pulling out the phone book. A listing of local dentist’s offices might be useful later on. Linda, giver of overpriced blowjobs, had mentioned a cousin that worked in town. What was the other girls name? She had seemed a little old for Julian. Edie, that was it. I wrote down the names on a pad. There was also the matter of a black Lincoln with missing hub cap. I might be able to get a tag number by watching the Roadside bar. A former co-worker had a relative on the local force. Maybe, just maybe, they could get me information. All in good time, of course. First order of business was getting well.

Rodney drove me to the eye doctor for my mid morning appointment. Rufus was the type of dog who never turned down a ride. We took him along. Thankfully, my lens wasn’t detached, just torn. With a follow up visit, the Doctor could repair the eye with a laser. Next up, we stopped by the police station to get my car out of impound. I was glad not to run into Chambers, paid the towing fee and arranged for Karl to pick it up later. After a stop for take out burgers, we drove home.

“So, tell me a little about yourself,” I prompted as we sat down to eat lunch.

“Well, I’m seventeen and looking for a job. I live with my Granny and need to help her out. She’s not doing too good. Umm…I like to draw. Maybe I could be an artist someday. Something like that.”

“You’ve already graduated school?”

Rodney kept his head down. “I had to drop out.”

“Ouch,” I said and dribbled catsup on my fries. “ Rosalee Sullivan is a counselor at Valley. You probably know her.”

“Sure. She had a fit when I left. Came to the house and talked to Granny. I’m gonna be able to get my diploma up at Tech. Mrs. Sullivan wouldn’t leave the house till I said I would.”

“She can be a firecracker but it’s a good decision. You say you like to draw?”

“Heck yeah. Wanna see?”

He dug a large legal pad out of his back pack and handed it over. The cover was a pencil sketch featuring the name, Hot Rod. The letters were bold, dripping blood and wrapped in vines with tiny roses. Underneath stood a warrior princess. Clad in a flimsy robe, her breasts were large and pointed, hips and thighs thick. Her arms were raised, holding up his name.

“This is pretty good,” I said.

Rodney took a bite of his burger. “That’s nothing. Look inside, there’s a lot of stuff there.”

The first drawing was Bigeloe One, the downtown mill. Done in pencil, the lines were sharp and confident. Ivy crawled up the brick walls and early morning sunlight highlighted the smokestack. Mist rose off the river in the foreground. I was truly speechless. It’s hard to put a finger on it but it felt like I was sitting on the bank in the shadow of the mill at early morning.
“Rodney, this is really very good. It’s so….real. That takes some talent.”

“Thanks,” he kept his head down and worked with his food.

“This piece needs to be framed and hung downtown in the museum. It’s as good as anything there. Would you like that? Be willing to loan out the drawing?”

“I guess. If you think anybody would want to see it.”

“I’m sure of that but you’ll have to sign it. Always sign your work.”

He did and we talked a little more about drawing and artists. I might have rambled on but he suggested it was time to get back to work. I kept the pad. Local landscapes dominated the book. The surprise was near the end in the form of a kitchen scene. An elderly woman was looking back at me through wire rim glasses. Bony fingers held a pod over a bowl of peas. Not smiling, it was as if she had been surprised in the middle of chores. She had to be Rodney’s Grandmother. The last page was of a younger woman. Her hair was up in curlers and the eyes were sad, haunting and devoid of hope. A feeling of despair almost radiated off the page. I looked closer. It wasn’t curlers in her hair but tiny syringes. A cigarette lay smoldering in an ashtray. The smoke rose and mixed with the tears on her face. I was looking at the image of a lost soul, much like my own the last two years. The effect was chilling and unsettling. She looked vaguely familiar. If it was Rodney’s mother, I might have seen her around town. Suddenly, it was important to know every thing I could find out about the kid. I knew just who to ask.

Rosalee returned my call an hour later. “So, you sound like the house is on fire. It’s not is it?”

“No, it’s the yard guy you sent over. He’s not what I expected. Did you know that he’s very talented in drawing? I mean, really good?”

“Umm…I know that he excelled in art classes, anything creative in nature. Struggled in math and science, socially awkward and a loner. He got picked on a lot in school. There was no way to convince him not to drop out and that breaks my heart.”

“What about family?”

“Lowell, I know what you’re feeling. Believe me, I’ve been there. Wanting to reach out to a lost soul is admirable and is what defines us as human. But…take it slow. Rodney is fragile, he’s had a tough upbringing.”
“Yeah? So, tell me.”

She was reticent but gave the basics. Rodney was abandoned by his mother at seven. Born out of wedlock, he never knew his Father. He was raised by a Grandmother and they lived on Hatchet Street near Bigeloe One, the downtown mill. The Grandmother was currently in failing health. He had dropped out of school to find a job and help with the medical bills. Rosalee finished by mentioning that she imagined that the two of us might get along.

The new relationship did have a different feel to it. Two lost souls in the world? Maybe. One thing that stuck in my mind was the Hatchett Street address. That’s where I grew up. The word that came to mind was synchronicity. The phenomenon is hard to explain, but very real. It’s like the orbits of people’s lives occasionally brushing against each other. Sometimes, it can be mere events that have a cosmic meeting. Whatever the case, I felt something strong with Rodney and went out to ask him about Hatchett Street. I almost hoped that it wasn’t my old address, number thirteen.

Hugh was holding court on my front lawn. Rodney and Rufus were the captive audience. The old man hadn’t bothered too much for his brief trip down the sidewalk. Baggy gray sweatpants sagged at the belly showing the waistband of his underwear. The pants were too short and revealed boney ankles, crammed into shiny black dress shoes. Over a stained white tee shirt, he wore a blue sweater despite the warm afternoon.

“My God, Funk! What happened to you,” he squinted in my direction. “I hope you kicked the other guy’s ass. It wasn’t a Mexican was it?”
“I ran into a door, Mr. Cantrell.”

“Sure you did,” he dragged on his smoke. “Look, even a pansy can learn one move. Kid, stand in front of me. Like this,” he grabbed Rodney and pulled him close. “Now, act like you want to kick my ass.”

Rodney didn’t know what to do. He glanced off to the side with his hands down.

“Goddamn kid, put your hands up. We’re just pretending after all.”

“I think I know what you want,” I offered and eased Rodney aside.

I raised my fists and looked into the old man’s eyes. His mouth was a hard line, broken only by the cigarette. He blinked and shot a palm upward between by hands, stopping an inch from the tip of my nose. Rufus began growling and started to circle Hugh’s ankles. Rodney scooped him up in one motion.

Hugh ignored him. “Close in, that’s the move that will save your ass. Done right, it’ll kill a man. At the least, he’ll be on the ground, blinking tears and spitting blood. You got that, kid?”

“Yes sir.”
“Damn, he don’t talk much, does he,” Hugh stared at him before turning to me. “Make sure he cross cuts the lawn. You go in one direction all the time, the grass grows that way and won’t look right. Cross cut, every time. You still got one eye, Funk, use it to watch this one. Now, if you ladies will pardon me, I’m going home to take a dump.”

We watched him go. I apologized for my neighbor but Rodney wasn’t put off a bit. He thought the old guy was funny and more than a little lonely. In fact, he felt bad for old people because they didn’t have any where to go. I agreed and steered the conversation around to him and where he lived. Synchronicity only went so far. Rodney lived at number two. He knew my old house. A Mexican family with six kids had bought the place. It was now adorned with new yellow siding and green shutters. The large willow on the side yard had been replaced by a garden. Learning of the demise of my tree was a bummer. Sometimes, memories fade away. Sometimes, they’re turned into food plots.

At least I remembered the wages. I gave the kid an advance for the week, knowing he could use the money. With all the projects in mind, I promised him a month of steady work. After he left, I almost made it into the house before Karl drove up in my car. He didn’t hang around and I had a chance to search the vehicle. As suspected, the forty-four magnum was gone. The tow truck driver or even a cop could have taken it but my money was on Julian. I eased behind the wheel, mindful of my ribs. The glove box had been rifled and was missing the portable GPS device. Otherwise, there was nothing of value in the car except for a gold chain and cross. It was the first gift I ever gave Grace. I kept it hanging from the rearview mirror. Now, the thieves had it. That offense was much worse than losing the gun. If there was ever a reason to right a wrong, this was it.

Rodney showed up the next morning on time. Over a period of two weeks, hedges were trimmed, flower beds renourished with mulch and the whole house pressure washed. Karl sent over treated wood for the front steps. Not only was I healing but the house was also. Rodney was proud of his work and suggested pansies along the front walk. I had ideas of my own. Move the operation inside. The attic was full of junk in boxes. There was also the matter of Jeff’s old bedroom. It would make an excellent studio for Rodney to work. If he so desired. I intended to encourage his talent, possibly springing for classes at Tech. As soon as our busy work was completed, I planned to talk about it with him. As for myself, I was healthy enough to do the very thing that I dreaded. Go and see a shrink.