04-03-2019, 11:44 PM
In the more hospitable rays of daylight, Lawrence and Xander pulled up to an old farmhouse. She stepped into the sizzling rays of a morning Texas sun, but coming from Moscow, her bare shoulders soaked up the warmth. She wore and jeans and a tank top, but Xander was more comfortable in a polo and khakis. He always tried to look professional, like maybe it would make his cute little baby cheeks seem more grown up. She was locking the car and slinging a handbag over her shoulder when the creaking of a screen door slammed open.
She paused half way up the walkway, shade of an oak tree shielding the quickly forming sweat on her brow.
“Hello there,” she called ahead. The woman on the front porch stood like a cement post, solid and strong despite the appearance of her age. Her back was only slightly curved, her cheeks leathery and wrinkled from years working in the same sun that warmed Laurie.
“You just hold up right there and tell me what’s your business,” the woman on the porch said.
Laurie lifted a brow curiously and glanced at Xander. His eyes were wide like he worried they’d made a mistake. Lawrence stood where she was until invited to come closer. Apparently this town was more wary of strangers than most.
“Good morning, are you Alma Alondra?” Lawrence asked.
Alma nodded, “Yes,” she answered.
Lawrence tried out a gentle smile. “My name is Lawrence. I’m a reporter doing a story on the decline of the postal service. Can I ask you a few questions about your old routes?” When she noticed Alma’s gaze slide toward Xander, Lawrence quickly added an explanation, kicking her head toward him. “He’s my intern. A puppy dog, I promise… Oh,” she said as the strong jaw of a pit bull pushed its way out the screen door, taking up sentry alongside Alma.
Lawrence smiled, and a few moments later, Alma nodded. “You come on up and we can talk on the porch. Sorry I only got two chairs,” she said, glancing at Xander. The intern only shrugged and squat on the front step, minding the broken boards under his butt.
Laurie joined Alma, catching a glimpse of the living room beyond the screen door. An old wall-mounted tv hung against dated wall-paper, show tuned to soap operas. A lumpy couch had a blanket tossed over the back upon which was curled a sleeping cat. Notably, a shot gun was hung on the wall near the tv.
Guns and pit bulls made for quite the atmosphere at grandma’s house.
She smiled at Xander and sat, not even bothered by the stained cushion tied to her seat. A dead fly rested on a little table between her and Alma. “You want anything to drink, hon?” Alma asked, but Lawrence shook her head. She knew Alma only offered to be polite. Declining was the polite thing to do in return. Alma rested back as the dog laid at her feet.
“Great view from here,” Lawrence said, studying the lawn. The neighbors across the street had a house in worse shape than Alma’s.
“The shade tree is good. Hard to find those around this area.” The dinging of a wind-chime filled the silence between them.
“So how long were you in the service?” Lawrence finally asked, easing into the questions. People loved to talk about themselves, so it usually didn’t take long for folks to open up like a book.
“Twenty-three years,” she said, voice pensive.
“Wow, up until the day they closed?”
Alma nodded. The US postal service was dismantled years ago. “Did you ever get other work after that?”
Alma shook her head, “Nah. Retired. My husband worked up until he died. After that, my granddaughter came and lived with me. Her parents couldn’t support her.” Her voice trailed off, lips downtrodden as she leaned over and pat the dog on the head like they shared an unspoken secret.
Lawrence glanced around them. There was no sign of anyone else living here. “Is your granddaughter at school?” It was a weekday, but that feeling started to float around in her gut. A feeling of wrongness.
Alma was quiet for longer than Lawrence liked. She finally nodded. Lawrence was dying to ask what happened to the granddaughter, but she dropped the line of questioning for now, sensing it was too soon.
“Well that’s good. Education is important these days. Can you tell me a little bit about your route? Any interesting stories?”
Alma opened up after that. She knew her route like the back of her head, probably could have walked it in the dark with her eyes closed. Of course there were always questionable places, but mail carriers learned to watch for signs of trouble. “Delivering to the school was always fun. When my own kids were younger, I’d see them out at recess when I drove up.” A sad smile touched her lips.
A school. Maybe that’s what the old brick building used to be, but when Lawrence was researching the town, she saw the elementary school was on the western side. “The school over on Jackson road?” She asked.
Alma shook her head, pointing north. “No, back then it was a few streets over that way. It was always nice to see them outside, playing and having fun. Brightest part of my day.”
Bingo, Lawrence thought, growing excited. The brick building they drove around last night was an old school. The new one must have been rebuilt in the years before the postal service was closed, while Alma’s kids were little. Now she had a granddaughter, meaning the kids were grown. So maybe twenty years ago?
Xander was absently playing with his wallet, screen turned from their view. Hopefully he was looking up the details exactly as Lawrence was thinking about the questions.
“Whatever happened to the old school building? It’s all fenced off, right? Is it under construction?”
Alma glanced, lips pressed to a thin line. The school was the address of Orion Laboratories off-site “data analysis” center, connected to a research trial that slipped through federal regulation like sand through fingers. It was all connected to a guy that Natalie shot her way. Alma knew what it was, but Lawrence was a stranger.
“Come inside, hon.” Alma said as she suddenly got up. Lawrence looked shocked, but waved that Xander should stay outside. He could even have her stained up cushion if he wanted it. She hurried indoors, following Alma before she changed her mind.
She paused half way up the walkway, shade of an oak tree shielding the quickly forming sweat on her brow.
“Hello there,” she called ahead. The woman on the front porch stood like a cement post, solid and strong despite the appearance of her age. Her back was only slightly curved, her cheeks leathery and wrinkled from years working in the same sun that warmed Laurie.
“You just hold up right there and tell me what’s your business,” the woman on the porch said.
Laurie lifted a brow curiously and glanced at Xander. His eyes were wide like he worried they’d made a mistake. Lawrence stood where she was until invited to come closer. Apparently this town was more wary of strangers than most.
“Good morning, are you Alma Alondra?” Lawrence asked.
Alma nodded, “Yes,” she answered.
Lawrence tried out a gentle smile. “My name is Lawrence. I’m a reporter doing a story on the decline of the postal service. Can I ask you a few questions about your old routes?” When she noticed Alma’s gaze slide toward Xander, Lawrence quickly added an explanation, kicking her head toward him. “He’s my intern. A puppy dog, I promise… Oh,” she said as the strong jaw of a pit bull pushed its way out the screen door, taking up sentry alongside Alma.
Lawrence smiled, and a few moments later, Alma nodded. “You come on up and we can talk on the porch. Sorry I only got two chairs,” she said, glancing at Xander. The intern only shrugged and squat on the front step, minding the broken boards under his butt.
Laurie joined Alma, catching a glimpse of the living room beyond the screen door. An old wall-mounted tv hung against dated wall-paper, show tuned to soap operas. A lumpy couch had a blanket tossed over the back upon which was curled a sleeping cat. Notably, a shot gun was hung on the wall near the tv.
Guns and pit bulls made for quite the atmosphere at grandma’s house.
She smiled at Xander and sat, not even bothered by the stained cushion tied to her seat. A dead fly rested on a little table between her and Alma. “You want anything to drink, hon?” Alma asked, but Lawrence shook her head. She knew Alma only offered to be polite. Declining was the polite thing to do in return. Alma rested back as the dog laid at her feet.
“Great view from here,” Lawrence said, studying the lawn. The neighbors across the street had a house in worse shape than Alma’s.
“The shade tree is good. Hard to find those around this area.” The dinging of a wind-chime filled the silence between them.
“So how long were you in the service?” Lawrence finally asked, easing into the questions. People loved to talk about themselves, so it usually didn’t take long for folks to open up like a book.
“Twenty-three years,” she said, voice pensive.
“Wow, up until the day they closed?”
Alma nodded. The US postal service was dismantled years ago. “Did you ever get other work after that?”
Alma shook her head, “Nah. Retired. My husband worked up until he died. After that, my granddaughter came and lived with me. Her parents couldn’t support her.” Her voice trailed off, lips downtrodden as she leaned over and pat the dog on the head like they shared an unspoken secret.
Lawrence glanced around them. There was no sign of anyone else living here. “Is your granddaughter at school?” It was a weekday, but that feeling started to float around in her gut. A feeling of wrongness.
Alma was quiet for longer than Lawrence liked. She finally nodded. Lawrence was dying to ask what happened to the granddaughter, but she dropped the line of questioning for now, sensing it was too soon.
“Well that’s good. Education is important these days. Can you tell me a little bit about your route? Any interesting stories?”
Alma opened up after that. She knew her route like the back of her head, probably could have walked it in the dark with her eyes closed. Of course there were always questionable places, but mail carriers learned to watch for signs of trouble. “Delivering to the school was always fun. When my own kids were younger, I’d see them out at recess when I drove up.” A sad smile touched her lips.
A school. Maybe that’s what the old brick building used to be, but when Lawrence was researching the town, she saw the elementary school was on the western side. “The school over on Jackson road?” She asked.
Alma shook her head, pointing north. “No, back then it was a few streets over that way. It was always nice to see them outside, playing and having fun. Brightest part of my day.”
Bingo, Lawrence thought, growing excited. The brick building they drove around last night was an old school. The new one must have been rebuilt in the years before the postal service was closed, while Alma’s kids were little. Now she had a granddaughter, meaning the kids were grown. So maybe twenty years ago?
Xander was absently playing with his wallet, screen turned from their view. Hopefully he was looking up the details exactly as Lawrence was thinking about the questions.
“Whatever happened to the old school building? It’s all fenced off, right? Is it under construction?”
Alma glanced, lips pressed to a thin line. The school was the address of Orion Laboratories off-site “data analysis” center, connected to a research trial that slipped through federal regulation like sand through fingers. It was all connected to a guy that Natalie shot her way. Alma knew what it was, but Lawrence was a stranger.
“Come inside, hon.” Alma said as she suddenly got up. Lawrence looked shocked, but waved that Xander should stay outside. He could even have her stained up cushion if he wanted it. She hurried indoors, following Alma before she changed her mind.