I climbed on board and studied the controls. I turned the key, stepped on the gas, and rolled to the pile of locks. I lowered the shovel and dug in. I backed up and carried the locks to the other side of the room and dumped them next to the cartons of mints. I did this ten times, motored over to Diesel, and parked it.
“It’s all yours,” I said, jumping off. “I don’t want to be a backhoe hog.”
“It’s boring, right?”
“Yes.”
Diesel hauled himself up behind the wheel and went to work shoveling locks. I watched him for a while, wondering who on earth he was. When I found myself fantasizing him naked, I gave myself a mental slap and looked for something else to do. If I’d had my computer, I’d have googled SALIGIA Stones. In the absence of the computer, I called my mom.
“So, how’s it going?” I asked her.
“It’s going just fine. How’s it going with you? Do you like your new job?”
“Yes. My job is terrific.”
I grew up in Fairfax, Virginia, just outside the Beltway. My parents still live there, in the same redbrick ranch with a dogwood tree in the front yard and picnic table and swing set in the back. My dad’s old Bonneville and my mom’s new Camry are tucked away in a two-car attached garage, and at this time of the year, the azaleas are beginning to bloom.
My mom teaches fifth grade, and my dad drives a public transport bus, like Ralph Cramden on The Honeymooners. My sister, Sara, is a year older than me and already has two kids. My brother, Tommy, is a year younger, is still single, and works in an auto body shop, customizing motorcycles. We’re the typical all-American family . . . except at least one of us might be an Unmentionable.
“Is there anything weird about our family?” I asked my mother.
“Weird?”
“Maybe special is a better word. Like, do we have any special abilities?”
“Your Uncle Fred can touch his tongue to his nose.”
“How about turning cats into fry pans?”
“Fred can’t do that. And besides, it would be mean.”
“I’ve always been able to make cupcakes better than anyone else.”
“That’s true,” my mother said. “You make wonderful cupcakes. You got that from your Great Grandmother Fanny.”
“I never knew her. Was she an Unmentionable?”
“Unmentionable? Heavens, no. We talked about her all the time. She was a hoot.”
“What about Ophelia? I only remember her from photographs.”
“Ophelia was Fanny’s little sister. She married a man named Wilbur Snell. He owned a shoe factory in Salem, and two weeks after the wedding, he disappeared and never was seen again. Ophelia stayed in Snell’s house in Marblehead until the day she died. The shoe factory closed long ago, but I guess it left Ophelia with enough to keep going. The family drifted apart, and the last time we saw Ophelia, you were five years old. She thought you were very special. She said you had a complicated destiny. I’ve remembered her words all these years. Ophelia was a little New Age in her old age.”
“Do you know why she left me her house?”
“She stated in the will that you were a kindred spirit. And of course, she didn’t have any children of her own. Only a one-eyed cat. And she could hardly leave her house to him.”
My heart skipped a couple beats. “What happened to the one-eyed cat?”
“I don’t know. I imagine he went to the animal shelter.”
“Do you know any more about him?”
“No. Your grandmother spoke to Ophelia from time to time, and she would mention the cat.”
I
made a little more small talk, then disconnected and watched Diesel some more. I offered to take another shift, but he declined.