Chapter 3
GLADYS NEVER FORGETS
“I know what you’re trying to do.”
Eyeing the box in the passenger seat, Mum had scribbled “Twice-Told” on the side in Sharpie.
Since I arrived, she had gone on a bender, cleaning the house as if she were expecting company.
She made a show of her ability to get around despite the boot on her foot.
This had been in the back of her closet, ready to donate.
She didn’t just want to purge its contents; she wanted me out of the house and mingling with the locals.
Mum had a diabolical streak. In another life, she’d have been an evil genius.
I climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side.
I had thrown on an old button-down shirt to hide some of the tattoos.
It’d be impossible to hide them all, but the last thing I needed was little old ladies running away in fear.
I grit my teeth, already feeling the pressure to conform to the small town.
Grabbing the box, I kicked the door shut and stared at the glass doors leading into Twice-Told Tales.
“Don’t let them see you sweat,” I mumbled.
Gladys had been a fixture in the town for as long as I could remember.
Plenty of times, I had woken up on a Saturday and come downstairs to see her sharing a pot of coffee with Mum.
They’d be gossiping about everything from politics to how Mrs. Henry hadn’t mowed her lawn in weeks.
She acted as the switchboard for the Firefly rumor mill.
Walking through those doors, no matter how carefully I chose my words, I’d be on the front page of the newspaper.
“In and out.”
I pulled at the door, and the bell above jingled, announcing my arrival. For a moment, I thought I might drop the box on the counter and leave without conversation. As I scanned the bureaus and armoires, I couldn’t find Gladys. Perhaps she had climbed into a piece of furniture and gotten trapped?
“Can I help you?”
It took a moment to realize the question had come from a trio of mannequins wearing vintage dresses.
I jumped when the middle one stepped forward.
She moved through the clutter with purpose, but stopped at a sizable distance between us.
As innocent as it appeared, a man with a box, I didn’t fit the norm.
“Dropping off donations.”
“Oh.” She tried to justify the surprise. “Don’t mind me. There have been rumors of a motorcycle gang in town.”
Rumors she most likely started. One tattooed man arrives, and suddenly the town acts as if it were under siege.
Despite the warm weather, she still wore an oversized sweater.
When she crossed her arms over her chest, her hands vanished within its folds.
If this had been Boston, I might have understood her hesitation.
I wanted to ask when the last time Firefly had a crime was.
Their version of dangerous included jaywalkers and kids hurling toilet paper over their teacher’s house.
Her worries were not only unfounded, but they highlighted my issue with the town.
“I’ll leave them on the counter.”
The offer must have brought her to her senses.
Sliding between tables filled with junk, she moved toward the counter, complete with vintage cash register.
She reached behind her head, tying her gray hair into a messy bun, complete with antique chopsticks.
With the counter between us, her demeanor relaxed.
“We can do a consignment and—”
“Nah, Mum just wants to donate it.”
The mention of Mum raised an eyebrow. Much like Bonnie, she quickly thumbed through her mental Rolodex.
When she finished the first round, I’m sure she went through every son, trying to pinpoint my place in Firefly.
Her eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t help but take satisfaction that she couldn’t place my face.
Unable to identify me felt like a badge of honor. I had escaped this suffocating town.
“Thanks,” she said. I could almost smell the oil burning as the gears turned. The keeper of Firefly’s secrets knew I wasn’t a flatlander, but she couldn’t figure out how. “Tell your mum thanks.”
“Welcome.”
Victory.
She opened the box as I turned to leave.
I could hear her shuffle through the contents as I reached the door.
Another few feet and I’d be able to get in the car, head home, and go about my business.
The gossip network would figure it out when Bonnie chimed in, but it’d give me enough time to escape.
“Charles?”
Dammit.
“I hardly recognized you.”
I didn’t have the energy to decipher the intention behind the statement.
Now that she figured out who I was, we’d begin the dance.
The alarms would sound, and there’d be a town meeting to discuss the reasoning behind my presence.
I’d be shocked if they didn’t request that I attend so they could hold a formal hearing.
“Ellie’s boy.”
I caved and turned around. It hadn’t been her razor-sharp memory that gave me away.
Holding my dad’s military uniform, she had spotted the name on the chest. I always imagined someday inking him, getting a traditional eagle on his chest. I knew she held nothing more than old clothes from the back of the closet, but seeing her holding Pops’s uniform, a bout of anger caught in my chest.
Anger at myself for not realizing Mum had moved beyond grief.
“How’s your mother doing?”
Well-meaning and maybe even altruistic, the question highlighted another problem that ran rampant in small towns.
As quickly as she identified me, Gladys moved up the bloodline.
I wasn’t Charlie, or even Charles. I was just Ellie’s boy.
The burden of generations past came tumbling down, burying any sense of self.
Worse than that, I became two-dimensional as she crammed my life story into one of her captain’s trunks.
“She’s doing well.”
“I thought she’d kick the doctor when he said she’d have to be off her feet.”
I had almost forgotten Gladys had been the one to take Mum to the hospital. Did Mum ask, or did Gladys offer? I pushed the cynicism out of my head. Regardless of the intention, she had done Mum a favor.
“Thanks for taking her to Bangor.”
“My pleasure, dear.” Gladys set the uniform aside and continued digging. “If you need anything, let me know. Hopefully, we’ll see her at the next guild meeting.”
“Guild?”
“Quilting Guild.” She said the words as if they should have been obvious.
“She’s working on a lovely quilt made of your father’s work shirts.
” It had been so long since I had been home that I didn’t even know my mother’s hobbies.
It seemed we both wielded needles to hold onto our memories.
The guilt came washing in. If I had called occasionally, perhaps she would have mentioned it.
“If you have anything else, feel free to drop it by.”
She flashed a quick smile before diving back into the contents of the box. I gave a slight nod and exited the store. I made a beeline for my car. Climbing into the driver's seat, I tossed my head back, trying to lock down the guilt before it took hold.
I had left for a reason. Back then, it had been crystal clear, an easy break where I never thought about what I left behind.
I expected Firefly to dredge up old memories and confirm all my reasons for leaving.
Except now, it wasn’t as cut and dry. It was only my relationship to Ellie that gave me any semblance of belonging. Otherwise, I remained an outsider.
Turning the key, I gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white. It was time to head back to Mum’s house. Barely noon, and I already needed a beer.
The chill returned when the sun set, leaving me pulling my jacket tight.
Even as spring brought green to the trees and flowers along walkways, winter reminded Mainers it’d return in a few months.
The soft breeze from the mountains didn’t deter the hearty folks of Firefly.
At the end of the green, I spotted the enormous screen with a black-and-white movie playing.
Decades later, they still partook in the ritual.
I meandered along the path, impressed with how much downtown had changed.
As a kid, it had been all but abandoned, and I thought the town would fade into obscurity.
They wouldn’t bend, not to weather and definitely not to the economy.
With shops surrounding the green, it appeared as if they weren’t simply surviving, but thriving.
With every new discovery, I wondered if it had happened sooner, if it would have changed my perspective?
Thrusting my hands into my pockets, I strolled past the gazebo, park benches, and flower beds. Even the black lamps lining the path had that small-town charm everybody spoke of. They saw quaint. I saw suffocation.
And yet, I wandered toward the families partaking in movie night. The meandering matched my thoughts, aimless and all over the place. The symbolism of being booted from one home and returning to a place I once lived wasn’t lost on me. I tucked the irony away for later.
I reached the end of the path, where it turned into greenery. Families spread out on blankets, the parents watching the movie while children ran about catching fireflies. There were enough people, I’d guess the majority of Firefly attended.
Walking along the grass, I found an oak tree to lean against. From here, I could barely make out the movie’s soundtrack.
I could have been at home reading or sitting in the backyard having a beer.
When Mum called it an early night, I snuck out of the house like old times.
This time, I didn’t have to roll her car out of the driveway before speeding away.
I chuckled at the thought. “I was such an idiot.”