Jeffrey

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Jeffrey

On the day that Jeffrey wandered up to my home, I could hardly believe my eyes or ears for that matter. He seemed to be such a small man, not really made for physical labor, but there he was asking if I needed any help digging my graves or looking after the plots.

He told me that he was good at digging and that he wasn’t expecting a salary, he only wanted three apples a day, “One for breakfast, dinner, and supper, you see. I like apples. I hardly eat anything else, sir.” He wasn’t interested in money.

“That sounds more than doable.” I asked him, “Do you have a place in town? I hope you don’t plan on boarding with my family. We don’t really have the room, my wife is nervous about strangers and the baby cries most nights…”

“Don’t worry sir; I don’t have a place in town, though. I saw a shack out in the lots…I was planning on tucking in there. If you don’t mind of course.”

“Mind? Of course I don’t mind, please yourself. I keep our push mowers, edgers and equipment, shovels and the like, in that shack. If you don’t mind them, go ahead and live there.”

“I am not going to live there, just sleep. I don’t mind the rain or cold, I just would like a place to lay my head that an animal can’t get into. I don’t need any extra room at all because I don’t have anything to store other than what is on my person.” He must have seen something in my face at this remark. “I am not a vagrant if that is what you think, sir, I just want to do some honest work. Also, if I sleep in the shed I can start work as soon as I getup. I can dig when and where you tell me and if there isn’t any digging to be done I’ll cut the grass and clear the markers. If that suits you, I mean.”

It seemed a mighty fair deal on my part; I had been meaning to hire someone, what with the baby and all. He seemed to honestly want to work for me. He came across as a very forthright man; my gut told me I could trust him. I was wary about him only wanting apples for pay but I could hardly criticize him as eccentric. We shook on it. I went to the house to fetch a pillow and blanket and took Jeffrey out to the shed to make sure there was space for him to sleep.

I opened the door to the shack and led Jeffrey in. I had left the room in disarray that afternoon and I apologized for the mess, making a lame joke about not expecting company. Jeffrey didn’t say anything he just set to organizing. I laid the blanket and pillow out in the driest corner. I asked Jeffrey in for supper but he begged off saying he wanted to get some shut-eye. I told him good night and wandered back to the house to tell my wife of our new employee.

My wife thought he was a very strange man at first, and was none too pleased that I had allowed him to stay on the property. My wife simmered for the first couple of days until she noticed that Jeffrey didn’t want anything to do with the house, let alone her family. She invited him to supper occasionally, accusing me of using him for slave labor or something because I wasn’t paying him. Yet, no matter how adamant she was, her invites met with polite refusal when Jeffrey came to collect his apples. She would watch Jeffrey walk to his shed, eating that apple with quiet enjoyment, which greatly exceeded that of the supper we were about to eat.

Jeffrey became part of the natural doings of the cemetery. He did his work quickly and well. It was lucky he came along. Each morning Jeffrey would meet me on the porch and we would discuss the work I needed done for the day.

“How many do you think you will need today, sir?”

“Two,” as I check my records, “make one smaller.”

“Child-size like, sir?”

“Yes, Jeffrey.”

On days when he had to dig for a child Jeffrey slumped away slower than usual, as if he would like to postpone his morning activity. When the hole was for an adult Jeffrey treated it like he was building a bomb shelter of digging fence posts. Even though the children’s graves are less physical work they tired him out quickly. I would see him sitting on the edge dangling his feet, as if he needed the sun to recharge him for the remainder of the task. He never took breaks on an adult grave.

Once fall arrived I caught myself contemplating redoing the roof on our old shed, maybe even putting in insulation. The guilt of paying so little for the work I would usually have to do myself was setting in. One day when Jeffrey was in the right lot, far away from the shed, I fixed the roof tiles that had split or worked loose over the years. A few weeks after the roof, I was in town getting supplies for my workshop, freshly delivered from the hospital in Richmond. After loading the truck, I wandered around the downtown area and into Smith & Sons Camping Supplies. I didn’t have any particular need for camp gear and I wasn’t sure why I was in the store at al until I saw a sign for sleeping bags. A beautiful green and black sleeping bag was tucked under my arm as I left the store that day. I laid it out on the boards that Jeffrey was using and it seemed to add a whole new life to the shed. The next morning Jeffrey didn’t mention his new addition so neither did I. And so life continued.

This morning the usual conversation occurred.
“How many do you think you’ll need today sir?”
“You don’t need to dig any today, Jeffrey.”
“Oh really, sir?”
“No, Jeffrey.”

I watched him walk away with his breakfast apple in hand. Instead of going to the shed to get the weeding equipment, Jeffrey continued on by. I figured that he was going to take it easy, maybe even take a bit of vacation. He deserved it. So I was surprised when I looked out the window shortly after noon and saw him digging in the center lot near an old maple tree. I meandered out to the tree to see what he was doing.

“Jeffrey, hey Jeffrey. I told you I didn’t need you to dig any today. Why don’t you take it easy?”

His head popped out of the hole and he hauled himself out. “Well sir, I just wanted to finish one more before I moved on.”

“Move on? I thought you liked it here. You do good work; I’ve never seen such dedication for the work. The bottoms are flat, the sides have never caved in; you have really been a great help to me since you came. It sure would be difficult to replace you.”

He was embarrassed, “Ta. I’m glad that I’ve been able to help you along,” he paused contemplating, “Pull up some grass and let me tell you a story young man.”

I sat Indian-style on the ground while he dangled his legs to and fro. He stretched until he cracked his back and settled in to tell his tale.
He began, “My father died when I was twelve.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t particularly mind, he was always at work…he woke up at four a.m. and returned after ten, since I was young, I was put to bed long before he returned and I could never manage to wake up when he was actually home. He ran his father’s store and didn’t trust the others to do the work right. My dad went in early to set up displays and make sure everything was spic-and-span. He was the first in the door and the last to leave. He only took off work when my mother forced him to attend a family get together, even then he wasn’t much fun with his constant worrying. When he passed, well, I had never known him so I never missed him. Nanny cried for days though. Mr. Rivers, the gardener, said that she cried because she’s a woman, I still don’t understand it because I cried when my mother died a few years latter. Me, a man of seventeen, acting like a woman, nah, that couldn’t be it.”
He paused as if he was still confused by Mr. Rivers’ comment from so long ago.

“Mr. Rivers wasn’t so bad, he did the landscaping and flower arrangements for grandfather’s store. Kept the hedges from going willy-nilly and the vines from tripping the customers. I helped him sometimes, when he wanted a cigarette break he would hand me the hedge clippers and I would snip away until he was through, then he would finish the tops. It was Mr. Rivers who gave me my first drink, on my thirteenth birthday he snuck me some whiskey after mum had one of her attacks. She didn’t get on well after father died. Nanny just told me that mum needed her rest and that I should be quiet, that I should be a good boy so that mum would have fewer attacks. I did try to be quiet, but it was my birthday and I didn’t think it was at all fair that I couldn’t have as much fun as I pleased. That idea stopped when the vase hit the wall just above my head, it is my luck that mother is a bad throw. Nanny tried to stop the blood coming from my cheek but I stomped upstairs to the attic. I crawled between two trunks and pouted until Mr. Rivers tracked me down. He took his flask out, gave me a taste and fixed a bandage on my war wound. Then he asked if I wanted to come downstairs and have cake with him and Nanny since mum had gone to bed. Nanny said I was soused but I wasn’t.”

“After mum died I needed to work. Grandfather didn’t want me to work, he said I was too young, but I got a job as a bricklayer in London all the same, and then I worked in construction. It wasn’t a bad life. I made friends quickly with the big guys on the crew. It was tough; the first couple of weeks I went to sleep aching but it was an okay kind of an ache. I was teamed with Matthew, a compact Briton from the West, quick to temper and to laughter. He was the only one even close to my height so it wasn’t as awkward to lift things. After work he and I would go to the pub and tie a few on. He helped the years go by faster.”

“I met my wife, Deb, on one of our outings. On Saturdays instead of going to the bar, Matthew and I would head to a nearby dance hall. I may not have the nicest face in town but I could really cut a rug in my day. My steady dance partner was Lorena, long red hair, dressed to the nines and legs that danced until dawn. I was a lucky guy when she let me walk her home, I don’t mind telling you. One night I was waiting around for Lorena when Deb and two of her friends came in. She was beautiful; honey hair, almond brown eyes, and a smile like the sun. The boys and me could tell the three were American by the funny accents. I still remember what she was wearing you know. Her dress was blue with tiny little flowers all over it, pleated to the waist, short sleeved. Hair pulled back with a ribbon. She ordered a cherry soda while her friends got some chips. I don’t know how, but I managed to force my feet to take me over to the table and ask Deb to dance. I’m surprised to this day that I didn’t fall over when she said yes. I didn’t even see Lorena that night, only Deb.”

“Its funny, I don’t really remember anything else but Deb for the next three weeks. I must have gone to work and I assume that Deb and I went out, but I don’t have clue about where. There’s a vague sense of ice cream and the moon but that’s about it. Of course she and her family were only on vacation, so it couldn’t last forever, or so I thought. She and I got along so well that when she crossed back over she asked if I would come. This was big, I had never been out of London, not even on holiday, and I don't think I've even seen it all, but she was lovely and I was tired of being alone."

"I had already met her parents of course. The night after we danced until dawn was my first introduction. Her father was this silent brick of a man who sat smoking cigars while Deb's mother busied herself with chitchat. She asked what I did and where I lived, and once she discovered these bits of information she lost her pleasant facade in order to protect her baby from this uneducated brute before her, whereas her husband barely rustled his paper. Luckily Deb rescued me before her mother tore me to shreds with her well-manicured fingers. The day that I went to ask for Deb's hand had to be the scariest day of my life. After convincing her mother that we were serious and receiving a not-disapproving grunt from her father, I packed my things and boarded the ship."

“The boat was terrifying, I can't even tell you. The whole tickertape spectacle puts a good face on it but don't believe it. I clung to the railings constantly, dragging myself from one inane game or program to another. I marveled at Deb wearing her saddle shoes with three-inch heels when I could barely stand in my boots. You could say that my first taste of wealth and the good life tasted a lot like nausea. I should have taken the hint."

"Deb and I took our vows under the watchful eyes of the ship's captain. I think that was the only time I let go of the railings the whole trip. I put on my best suit, gray corduroy I had purchased before the trip, and marched to the deck were the ceremony was to be held. On the way her father saw me, caught my arm and dragged me to his room. He told me I was not going to marry his daughter in such a suit, he sent a cabin boy to find someone my size who could loan me something to wear. I was torn between anger at being treated like a child and relief that he had finally spoken to me. The cuffs were so long that I nearly tripped on the pants, but her father was satisfied enough with the outcome to shove me down the isle. Deb cried, her mother cried, I cried and her father sidled up to me to tell me not to wrinkle the suit, it had to be returned early the next morning."

"Her father set us up in a one story house not far from their estate. It was a faded yellow color when we moved in and it stayed that way no matter how many times I tried to paint it a brighter shade. The inside wasn't much better. The couple that had it before us thought it was a wonderful idea to paint each room in a various shade of green. Deb thought it was precious and continued the trend with a green sofa and curtains. I still won't wear green; I gave up on the color after I carried Deb over the threshold. The kitchen was tiny, not that it was a problem, since Deb didn't cook much or well. I came home to TV dinners more likely than not. You get used to the brick of potatoes and glob of vegetable after awhile."

"We had the last lot on the street so Deb and I had a huge lawn. I honed the talents that I learned at Mr. Rivers' side, weeding, edging and mowing that lawn. If the lawn was my domain the garden was Deb's. She couldn't cook or bake but her thumb was as green as our walls. The backyard brimmed with roses, honeysuckle, ivies, and peonies. She lined the front walk with geraniums, walking past those flowers was a good way to start my day. Her mother introduced her to the gardening circle, and it was not long until I had ladies traipsing on my lawn with their heels almost every afternoon. I watched them from the back windows occasionally. Strange women with huge hats who kept there eyes open too wide, and smiled so big you could see their gums. Every once in awhile a huge gale of laughter would erupt making me jump, I would glance out and they would all be hiding their mouths under gloved hands with a pained look crossing them all. I was always relieved when they left."

"When we first came into town I got work in construction, building and painting houses, but Deb's mother hadn't wanted a blue-collar for a son-in-law so she made her husband give me a job in his firm. I was trained as a bank teller. I worked real hard, her father was proud and thankfully her mother left me alone. Giving and taking money wasn't hard. I'm grateful that her father didn't want me to follow in his footsteps to become a loan officer. I wouldn't be able to tell newlyweds that they couldn't buy their dream home because they had bounced checks to buy diapers for the baby. I would hand over money to anyone who came in. One summer, my father-in-law surprised Deb with a car. It was a big Chevy ' 65, royal blue with maroon interior, a beautiful car over all. Deb was so happy, she flung her arms around her father grabbed the keys, jumped in and revved the motor. As she was driving around the block honking at our neighbors I asked where the car had come from. The Mahoney's hadn't been able to make payment on the Chevy and it had been repossessed, he had bought it by making the last payments. Deb never did understand why I took the keys from her and told him to take it back. He didn't like me much after that."

"I spent forty-three years in her father's bank. People liked me at the firm even though I never was a big Whig. When they said good morning or evening I always answered back and I knew everybody's name. I can remember names and faces well. I stayed at the bank even after Deb's father died. I wasn't mad that I never got a promotion. I never wanted the money. Deb's mother wanted her daughter to be married to an important man, one that had money and power, I think Deb wanted that too after awhile. She had an affair once, she didn't think I knew, but I do. He was the husband of one of the garden clubbers. I think his name was Cecil, a lawyer. It broke my heart when I finally realized what was wrong with her. She had been acting really odd around the house; very careful not to upset me and to leave me alone when I wanted. The night she cooked me pot roast with real mashed potatoes I knew. I looked her in the eyes and I knew. I've never been sure why she stopped seeing Cecil, maybe his wife found out, but a few weeks later life returned to normal, she began to nag again so it was over. The affair was good for me in a way; I realized that I was still in love with her, the faded house with green walls and the geraniums edging the manicured lawn. My life wasn't good but it wasn't bad either, it just was. Me and Deb stayed together for forty-three years."

It was then that I really noticed how old he was, I had always assumed that he was in his late twenties, early thirties at the most. I saw the gnarled muscles on the back of his neck and the clearly defined bones in his hands. He possessed the face of a young man: brown eyes backed with a soft gleam, a narrow nose, and wide mouth that would break his face into a thousand wrinkles when he smiled big or laughed. His skin still retained the pink glow of youth even after such a life. I took in all of this in merely a second but it hit me like a wall. I had been talking to him as if I had at least a decade on him, but he must have had at least two on me. But there was more always more and he began again.

"I don't have any children. Oh, I wanted them but the doctors said there was something wrong with Deb that she couldn't carry to term, so it was better not even to try to get pregnant. Deb was really upset for a while because she thought that I was mad that I wouldn't have a son. I have to tell you, I was mad; I hated the idea of never hearing someone call me dad. But I resigned myself to not having children, swallowed my anger and comforted Deb as best I could. She was so worried that I wouldn't have a son that she didn't consider at first that she wouldn't either. I will always wonder what it would have been like to have a son, but we can't change the past now can we?"

"Three days after our anniversary, Deb died. I had no children, no wife, no relatives, no place really, it was just like after mum passed. I sat at the wake being strangled by her garden club friends with French perfumes, each trying to cry without smudging their makeup. Her mother came up to me, explained that I no longer had a job with her husband's firm, and then placed herself at the head of the receiving line. At the funeral in the morning Deb's cousins swarmed around me wishing me the best while slipping their number into my pocket, they didn't realize that I was out of favor with mother."

"I don't know what happened, I just started walking. One too many grieving aunts tried to consol me and I just started walking. I walked determinably but in no particular direction, climbing fences, wading streams, avoiding roads and towns. I wrapped my suit jacket around my waist during the day and used it as a pillow at night. For the first two nights I wasn't hungry at all, on the third day I managed to catch a rabbit. After skinning and cleaning my meal, I built a fire and took stock of my surroundings. I had been following a small stream since the morning before, it wound its way through sloping countryside, there wasn't a town in sight and I took solace in that. I wasn't feeling sad exactly. I mean I missed my wife, over all she was a good woman and it was hard to see her die like that. Cancer is so hard to watch, she was down to 98 pounds at the end you know. She couldn't keep anything down because of the treatments. She looked like a ghost, propped up in the bed; the doctors wouldn't let her walk around. Her hair fell out too. I filled our room with flowers and brought in a pot of her geraniums to keep her company while I was at work but nothing seemed to help. My wife was dying, she knew it, and I knew it. The doctor called me at work when it was over. I heard the ring of the phone and I knew before the secretary picked it up, I was at the desk before she said hello. My ears plugged when I lifted the receiver the doctor was an unpleasant buzz and so was everyone else until I started walking."

"When I built up the courage to walk into a town I bought sturdier clothes and shoes. I had been walking all day and was scouting for a place to sleep when I caught my reflection in a river. I hadn't shaved or combed my hair for weeks by this point. I had never seen so much hair on my head before. I decided that I was in dire need of a razor and a small pair of scissors to keep tidy. I suppose some small amount of vanity had snuck into my brain after working so long in that bank where everyone is dressed and clipped severely. I picked a small village, it was just before dusk when I entered and not many people were about. I saw a men's clothing store, I held onto a small hope that I would be lucky and just get a male attendant who wouldn't ask any questions. I must have given the saleslady a start in my tattered mourning suit, oxfords, and my hair, but I didn't know that I was going on my journey when I dressed for the funeral. It wouldn't have been right to show up in khakis, a pullover, and hiking boots. To her credit, the lady didn't interrogate me once she realized that I was going to pay for the clothes she found for me. It was lucky I put money in my wallet the morning of the funeral. Somewhat of a premonition I guess, who would take money to his wife's funeral. My brain probably had it all figured out."

Jeffrey seemed to believe that his story was complete and he fell into silent revelry. I glared for a moment until I found my voice and urgently said, "And? Is that it?"

"And nothing, you know the rest. I walked here and thought you might need some help."

"Why would you pick a cemetery to start your job search?"

"There's always work." He must have seen something odd in my look for he added, "I wanted to do labor. I wanted to erase the last five decades. Oh god ...five decades." He shook his head and continued, "And I didn't choose a cemetery to begin my job search, I chose you. I had been living by the stream over yonder, I saw you one day digging you stretched your back and took quite a few breaks; it looked like you needed help. I didn't really notice that I was walking through a cemetery until I saw your sign, and I had made up my mind by then. I remember how I liked my bricklayer job and construction, the feel of dirt under my nails. It's a good feeling."

I was stymied. "Well, I'm glad I could help." I had no idea how to take this small old man's confession. We sat out there in the sun for a few moments in silence. I ventured to break the peace, "Why do you only eat apples?"

"You say that like it’s a big mystery or that’s been bothering you. Deb was allergic to apples, so I gave them up. I used to eat those packaged pies that they sell in the store. Not as good as the real thing but packaged things rarely are. Deb caught me eating one of those once, she snatched it out of my hand and threw it away. I learned to finish it before I got within a block of home after that. Now that she's gone I can eat them whenever I want. Also, Mum always told me `an apple a day keeps the doctor away."'

"My mother used to say that too. But surely you can't live off of them?"

"I don't do much, I dig a few holes a day, clip a little grass nothing too taxing. After mum died I used to get by off a cold tin of beans a day. Now, I'm not doing half as much."

"Why are you leaving? You don't have anywhere else to go, where are you going to end up? In another cemetery?"

"We all end up in a cemetery."

"That's not what I meant. Where will you go?"

Brilliantly changing the subject Jeffrey said, "Could we go back to your house? I'm hungry and you forgot to give me my apples this morning."
I finally noticed that it was nearly dark, "I did? Sure we can go now." I got up wiping the dirt off my trousers, and began walking. "Would you like to have supper with us? My wife always makes extra, I think she made a pie today, too."

No answer. "Jeffrey? I asked if you would like to come in for dinner." I turned around to see what was the matter.

At first I did not see him, I looked all around in case I had missed him while turning. I took a few steps forward, "Jeffrey? Jeffrey, where did you go?" I looked down when I reached the edge of the grave. He was dead, his face wrinkled into a huge smile. I shoved the mound of dirt on top of him and, once full, I stomped it down to help insure that nothing would disturb the old man. On the way to tell my wife, I made a detour to Jeffrey's shed. I opened the door and was hit by the mixture of grass clippings, oil and burlap.

All of the equipment was immaculately neat and rust free, hanging from nails in the wall. The floor was swept clean, not a trace of dirt or oil anywhere on the concrete. His bed was made in the corner with the same pillow and blankets I had given him on the first day. Covering the push mowers was the beautiful green and black sleeping bag.