Chapter 22: Reconnecting

16 June 1991 – West Ware Road, Enfield, Massachusetts

’A few weeks of driving around didn’t do me any good,’ Jeff thought while he ran back to his parents’ house.

He ran up to Enfield Village this morning, a round-trip of about five miles. Five miles was a typical run for him, but the last mile proved harder than expected.

’There’s no reason to slack off just because you’re not a soldier anymore, Airborne. Now, suck it up.’

The world still slept though the sun was already over the horizon at quarter to six. Multiple groups calling cadence while they ran around Enfield were absent. The silence was abnormal after years of morning PT formations. Walking back into his parents’ house also felt unusual to him. It was no longer ‘his house.’

Jeff took a quick shower before heading to the kitchen. He started the coffee maker once there and then began mixing waffle batter. Two pounds of locally-cured bacon went into the oven to cook. The bacon wouldn’t curl and, since it was a self-cleaning oven, he didn’t have to worry about the spatter. A cantaloupe was his next sacrifice to the gods of breakfast.

“Can you move to Boston so I can get this kind of service every morning?” Kara asked when she entered. She poured herself a mug of coffee, mixing in an unholy amount of sugar and cream.

“You want any coffee with that?”

“Watch it, buster. I’ll bite your kneecaps.”

Kara put her coffee mug down to hug her big brother. She enjoyed the relationship they built during high school before he graduated and missed that during the last four years. She knew that they’d never recapture that kind of closeness as adults, but she still wanted to have a good relationship with her brother.

“Well, doesn’t this warm my heart?” Marisa asked, smiling at her two children from the doorway.

“Morning, Mom,” they said in stereo.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Waffles, bacon, cantaloupe, juice, coffee,” Jeff announced.

“I’m going to miss this when you move out again, Jeff,” Marisa sighed. Jeff raised an eyebrow. “What? You were in the Army for four years, Jeff. You were wounded in Panama. Lost your best friend in the Iraqi desert. You’re still my Little Boy, but you’re not a little boy any longer. You won’t be here forever.”

Jeff smiled sadly at his mother. “You’re right, Mom. On my run, I saw that Bilzarian’s is looking for help again. Physical labor was good for me in high school, and it should be good for me now. I might even be able to get out onto the floor helping the customers instead of hiding in the stock area.”

“You should go by anyway.”

“Why?”

“They lost Mr. Bilzarian, Senior, a month ago.”

Jeff closed his eyes. ‘Another death.’ “I’ll go by right after breakfast. I’m also going over to Swerve to ask about EMT classes.”

“‘EMT classes?’ What brought this on?”

“That accident in Ohio. I ran into one of the firefighters who responded the morning I left. He said I have a future in that line of work, that I have good skills. Plus, I helped a little boy and his mom that day; that felt pretty good. I don’t have anything else lined up, so I might as well check that out.”

“I can see you doing that,” Kara commented.

Jeff walked into Bilzarian’s Hardware for the first time since high school. Displays stood in different spots advertising different products, but the mix of faint chemical smells was the same. He smiled at the memories. He’d enjoyed working here.

“Can I help you, Sir?” a young man asked him. Jeff read the boy’s name tag. He blinked in surprise.

“Charlie? Charlie Bilzarian?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Holy cow! Charlie, it’s Jeff Knox! When did you grow up? You were nine just yesterday!”

“Hi, Mr. Knox. Yeah, Mom and Dad say the same thing,” Charlie laughed. “I’ll be a senior in high school in the fall.”

“A senior? Aw, geez. And what’s this ‘Mr. Knox’ nonsense? Do I look like my dad, Charlie? You used to call me ‘Jeff.’” They shared a chuckle. “I just got home yesterday, Charlie. I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.”

Charlie’s face turned somber. “Thanks, Jeff. I know he was eighty-five, but, he was Granddad, you know?”

“I do. Time gets all of us eventually. Is your dad here today?”

“He’s upstairs, trying to clean out Granddad’s apartment.”

The Bilzarian family lived above the store for decades. Mr. B., Junior, moved out when he went to college. Mr. B., Senior, lived alone in the apartment after Mrs. Bilzarian died in 1979.

“Okay if I go up to see him?”

“He’d appreciate seeing you. Every summer I hear him mutter, ‘None of the high school kids I hire have been worth a damn since Jeff Knox.’”

“Present company excluded, of course.”

“Yeah, right! The standards are twice as high for me as the third-generation Bilzarian in the store. I don’t mind, though, since I want to be in the business like Dad and Granddad. How can I lower the boom on someone someday if I don’t measure up, to begin with?”

“Good attitude, Charlie. That’ll serve you well down the road. Don’t be too hard on yourself, though.”

Charlie nodded. “Come on through the back. You can use the back stairs by the loading dock.” Charlie led him through the stock area. The current crop of summer help stared at the man following Charlie. “Go on up. Good to see you again, Jeff.”

“You too, Charlie.” Jeff took the stairs two at a time.

“Charlie?” Mr. B’s voice called from inside the apartment when Jeff entered the kitchen from the back deck. “Is that you?”

“Not quite, Mr. B. Where do you want me to drop the ten pallets of manure?”

Steve Bilzarian looked down the back hall with surprise on his face. “Jeff Knox? How the hell are you?”

Jeff shook hands with his first boss. “Better now that I’m home, Sir. Mom told me about your dad this morning, Sir. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Have a seat.” The two men sat at the kitchen table. “To be honest, I’m surprised Dad lived this long. I thought for sure he’d follow right after Mom, but he hung in there. I’m glad Charlie got the chance to know him.”

“I’m glad I got the chance too, Sir. I know he helped a lot of people out around here over the years.”

Steve nodded. “He gave a bunch of us our starts, that’s for certain. He left a big hole.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “So, how long are you home for?”

“For good, Sir. I’m out of the Army.”

“You’re out? I figured you for a lifer. And call me ‘Steve.’ Anyone who’s been shot at for our country is old enough to call me ‘Steve.’”

“Thanks, Steve. I wanted to retire after my twenty, but my best friend died in the Gulf, and that future died with him. What I want has changed.”

“What do you want now, Jeff?”

“Someone to come home to every night. A wife. Kids. The same things I wanted before Ken died, but with more conditions.”

“Like, not getting shot at?”

“That would be a good start.”

“What’s next for you then?”

“Studying to be an EMT. Finding a place to live. Asking you for a job.”

“You want to work here again?”

“I loved working here in high school, Steve. Where else can you get paid for working out? Those fifty- and hundred-pound bags don’t move themselves. I could ride herd on the kids you have working here, too. Be the designated asshole?”

“Take the heat off me, in a sense?”

“Sure.”

“I could only offer you five-fifty an hour, maybe five-seventy-five max.”

“Forty hours?”

“Yep.” Steve looked around. A light bulb went off in his head. “How about this? Five twenty-five, and you live here, above the store?”

“At what rent, Steve?”

“None.” Steve’s answer shocked Jeff.

“None?” The apartment was huge.

“None,” Steve confirmed. “You get this place cleaned up, work for me, go to school, and I get a little extra security knowing there’s someone I trust upstairs here. We generate heat and hot water for the store anyway, so I’ll include that. The electricity would be on you, though. I’ve been up here almost two hours and haven’t accomplished anything. There are too many memories in this apartment for me to work efficiently. You’d be doing Carol and me a huge favor.” Carol was Steve’s wife.

“I might get kinda busy, going to EMT school and all. I don’t know what’s involved yet, or what else I’ll get involved with now that I’m home. What about when I pass my EMT class and want to start working as one somewhere?”

“We figure that out down the road. The rent will still be better than anywhere else around. What do you say?”

“Can I get my cleaning and paint supplies from the store?”

“Right off the stockroom shelves. Just tell me what you take so I can keep track of inventory. You’ll have a key to the store and the alarm code. Depending on when your classes are, I might ask you to either open or close.”

“When can I start?”

Jeff stayed the week at his parents’ place before moving to Bilzarian’s. Marisa was sad to see him leave but was glad that he’d be close. He slept on a camping pad while he cleaned up the apartment since he’d already disposed of the mattresses there. The Bilzarians left for a long summer vacation the week he moved in and left Mike Huntley, the assistant store manager in charge. One of the high school kids tried to act all important when Jeff gathered more cleaning supplies during that first weekend.

“You can’t just come in here and take that!”

“I have authorization,” Jeff commented, not even turning around. He continued placing supplies in a box.

“Not from me, you don’t!”

Jeff turned and gave him a stare.

“Listen up, Genius. You don’t matter to me. You ain’t even on my radar. Do you have the names ‘Panama’ and ‘the Persian Gulf’ stored in your brain housing group anywhere?” The kid looked confused. “That’s your skull, Genius. You know why those two places are significant?” The kid nodded. “You may have learned about them in history class, but I know about them because I was there. I watched friends die in both of those places while you popped zits onto the bathroom mirror. I answer to one person here, and that person ain’t you. Do you read me, Genius?” The kid nodded furiously. Jeff returned to the apartment with his cleaning supplies.

Jeff restored the apartment to its former glory with a week’s hard work. He worked twelve hours a day minimum. The senior Bilzarian smoked throughout the years he lived in the space, as did his late wife. Copious amounts of elbow grease, along with a helpful cleaner/degreaser, removed the years of tobacco smoke residue from the ceilings, walls, and woodwork. Fresh paint and lemon oil finished the job. Jeff even did all minor repairs that went untouched as Mr. Bilzarian, Senior, grew older. Jeff now lived free of charge in two thousand square feet of an immaculate apartment that should command hundreds in rent.

Jeff decided to check out a store he discovered down the street after finishing the apartment. The store, named ‘The Haberdashery,’ was just that, a men’s clothing store. One of the owners greeted Jeff and soon had him in front of mirrors checking out new suits. Jeff bought three along with various items to make many more outfits. Jeff promised to return for other items in the future.

When he stepped out of the dressing room for the final time, he spotted a familiar figure. That person checked out a display of silk ties. A younger man stepped up to the person and said something. The person turned their back in response. The man stomped away past Jeff muttering, “Frigid bitch.” Jeff smirked and walked over to the person.

Disguising his voice, he said, “You know if you get three more ties, we can test their strength in my bedroom.”