According To Edgar
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2006 by MysteryWriter

On Saturday morning Edgar arouse at his usual 6AM. Too many years of waking for breakfast with his working wife had carved a groove in his brain which time had failed to erased. Edgar had learned to cook, well in all honesty it was more to microwave frozen food. Nonetheless, he prepared his own breakfast. It consisted of microwaved frozen pancakes, with frozen link sausage also microwaved. The trick was to have them be at least warm at the same time.

All the animal fat and sugar were his weekend treats. On weekday mornings it was a bowl of crunchy bran cereal with a handful of dried fruit for taste. Either way after only a few minutes Edgar was ready to begin his day. That Saturday morning his day was going to be a little less boring.

Edgar struggled with whether he should wait at home, then go directly to the meeting, or go out to shoot his daily picture on the way. The decision had to be made before he left the house. The time of his leaving would depend on that decision.

Edgar spent several minutes drinking coffee while looking out at the wet grass. He knew that he should make a decision soon or his indecision would be the decision. Edgar decided that the time had come to take the bull by the horns. He turned on the TV to watch the morning news shows until time to leave for his meeting with Tammy Smith.

Taft had kept an open mind. He felt that he was prepared for Tammy Smith to be anything at all. He was wrong of course. Edgar was never going to be completely open minded.

The woman matching the description Edgar had been give had two children in tow. The kids were both hers there was no doubt of it. Either she and her ex husband were clones or he contributed nothing to the gene pool.

Tammy Smith was tall and stick thin. Not quite concentration camp thin, but damn close. She had a thick head of flaming red hair. She would have had the pale skin to go with the hair, had it not been for the end to end freckles that covered every exposed bit of her. The look could have easily been southern mill trash, but not on Tammy Smith. She rose above it to be a 100% yuppie princess. She lacked only the sweater tied around her neck and the tennis racket to make the stereotype complete.

The kids were both thin, pale and red headed. Their freckles weren't as noticeable as Tammy's, so maybe the husband had contributed something after all. Taft walked to the table where they all sat before he spoke.

"Hi, I'm Edgar. You must be Mrs. Smith." What he really wanted to say is, this isn't going to work out after all.

"Mr. Taft, I have been so looking forward to meeting you."

"Now that's hard to believe." Edgar smiled to let her know he didn't really mind the little white lie.

"Actually it's true. I have heard a lot about you."

"Nothing good I'm sure."

"The art department still runs the debate you had with that Professor from the physics department. I was curious so I learned a little about you after I saw it."

"Well I hope the debate didn't discourage you from continuing in the art department." He mentioned it because there were mixed opinions as to who had won the debate. Most felt he lost it. The more entrenched artist around thought he made all the right points so he won. Edgar felt it had all been a huge waste of time. He only did it because he was asked by his old friend, the head of the art department. That and he didn't recognize it for the ego thing that it was till it was over.

"On the contrary, I felt that you were speaking directly to me. It's what got me more serious about my designs."

"Didn't you say you were involved with industrial design?"

"Yes but since starting in the art department, I have begun to design a line of jewelry. At the moment I am manufacturing it myself on a very small scale. The industrial design was of some use."

"You will most likely find that everything is of some use to a working artist." God that sounded pompous, he thought. Edgar tried to break the BS thread by mentioning her kids. "Well there is no doubt who the mother of those two is."

"There is also no doubt who the father is." She gave him a wicked smile before continuing quietly. "We had the same postman for years." Edgar couldn't help the smile.

"That hardly seems like the country club thing to say." He laughed happily.

"I'm learning a little more than my mother and father planned." She smiled again, but not so wickedly. She wasn't exactly flirting with him but she was trying to convince him that she would be good company on his festival trip. Against his better judgement Edgar relented in his mind. After about ten more minutes the arrangements were complete. They would meet at four AM at his condominium. She would leave her car there and drive the convertible for him to the festival. She explained the size of her exhibit so that he could make plans accordingly.

Edgar had planned to drive to some old barns on the way home, but decided against it. Instead he drove straight home with an idea burning in his head. He picked up a wine decanter on the way home.

Once home he rummaged through the storage room till he found his old bridal bouquet. From it he removed a couple of roses. He set up the still life on his patio using a folding chair to hold the portable background his son in law had made for him.

Edgar spent the next week living his routine. It was the only thing that gave his life any structure. However between the breakfast and the time he left to shoot his one morning picture, he worried about the coming weekend and the festival. How would his latest work be received? His mind was changing for sure but was it effecting his work? Questions that he hoped would be answered at the River Walk Festival.

After developing it and while the new images dried, edgar worried about his future. How would he survive if he lost the ability to shoot pictures?

After he painted a while on whatever image he was working at the time, he worried about how his trip with the yuppie princess would go. Actually she was a bit old for a princess. She was at least in her late twenties. He didn't like the sound of yuppie queen. Even in his mind the sound of it made him smile wickedly. He decided to go with yuppie soccer mom.

The major thing the meeting had done for Edgar was to reassure him that the woman wouldn't become a personal issue. She had her life and he had his. Their two lives would just dovetail that one weekend, then never again. That was his plan and he was sticking to it. In the meantime he did one simple picture especially for the show. He tried to do one especially for every show. He always did it at the last minute to cut back on the time wasted agonizing over it.

Edgar chose to shoot a paper negative on Tuesday morning. He printed it, then did a thin color wash on the print after sealing it with a spray on poly material.

Edgar was dressed in a pair of cut off jeans and a butchered sweat shirt on Monday afternoon. It was about three PM when the knock on the door startled him. He might have looked out just to make sure that it wasn't a home invasion, if he had given it any thought. You see in the two years Edgar had lived in the Condo, not a single person had visited him unexpectedly. He therefore assumed that it was a delivery man with some forgotten package.

To his utter amazement it was Tammy Smith, minus her gaggle of children, who stood on his stoop. "Tammy?" he asked through the closed storm door.

"The Kid are at 'Mother's afternoon out. I thought I would stop by to find you before the middle of the night on Saturday."

"Well you found me, come on in." Edgar said stepping back. "Forgive this mess, I never have company."

Tammy looked around before she answered. "Edgar, you need to hire a cleaning lady. Maybe one of those maid services."

"I guess I should, but about once a month I break down and clean."

She turned up her nose at that thought. She looked as though she wanted to run away before the clutter attacked her. Her face was a scene right out of some fifties horror move. "Calm down Tammy, it's just clutter. Trust me, I'm not harboring the ebola virus in here."

"Mr. Taft, if I had more time, I would help clean this place right now. I'd put you to work as well. This is disgusting."

"Well, when you come back on Saturday morning, remind me not to invite you in for coffee and donuts." Edgar's voice took on a sarcastic tone.

"And they said you weren't a thoughtful man," her sarcasm matched his. It seemed the Yuppie Soccer Mom could hold her own.

"Who said that?"

"No one, they actually said a lot worse." She broke into a smile. "Okay, you're a slob. Thank god its only for two days. I can live with it. I had a college room mate almost this bad once."

"Did they ever find the body?" Edgar was smiling as he said it. Somehow in the few words they exchanged that afternoon their relationship was defined.

"I think it might have been spring before she emerged from under her own clutter." Tammy stopped to think a minute. It broke the mood as well as gave her time to find the right words. "Edgar, I really wanted to ask if we could leave on Friday? If we leave that early on Saturday, we are not going to have time to sleep at all. We will both be a wreck before we even get started. I will be happy to pay for my own motel room that night. I would rather do that than drive."

"I should take your money, but I won't. I didn't suggest leaving on Friday because you have kids."

"Michael, my former husband, can pick them up from our sitter's house on his way home from work. It just means subjecting them to another evening with him, and the slut de jour, but it probably won't scar them for life. Don't worry, I checked with my therapist before I suggested it."

Edgar wasn't sure if she was serious about the therapist, but he wouldn't have been surprised. "I wasn't at all worried. You have the responsibility for your own life. I can't and won't try to interfere." It was an easy promise to make, since Edgar didn't know or care about her life. "As for leaving on Friday, what time?"

"It's a three hour drive, and I read the on-line brochure about the festival. If we get there by four, we can get our space assignments Friday. We will know where to go first thing Saturday morning. Since we won't have to stand in line to get our assignment, setting up that early shouldn't be too hard."

"Okay, can you be here around noon? If you do that, we can eat a late lunch somewhere on the road."

"Since you insist on me driving your teeny tiny convertible, maybe and extra hour is called for. How about I get here about 11am?"

"That's just fine, would you like a cup of coffee? I think I have a clean cup somewhere."

"No thanks, I hate to tell you Mr. Taft, but I wouldn't eat or drink anything in this house. It should be declared a super site by the EPA. I'm going shopping for a hazmat suit as a matter of fact."

"You wouldn't like one of those. They don't come in pink." Edgar hoped it didn't hurt her feelings.

"Oh I bet you like pink sometimes." She said it as she turned for the front door. He was surprised by how fast she could leave a room. No good-byes no wind down of conversation, she was just gone.

For some reason Edgar felt depressed, even more than usual, after his visit from the Yuppie Soccer Mom. He had lost the ability to think of her as anything else. Imagine the YSM challenging a decision he had made for her. Of course, he was glad that she had. Packing the car in the sunlight was far more to his liking, than packing it in the dead of night. Oh he would have been packed during the daylight hours on Friday either way, but most likely he would have to rearrange the car to accommodate her two 'small' cases.

As usually happened Edgar lost interest in painting, even though he continued to shoot pictures. One new shot everyday, even though about two weeks would pass before anything found its way onto his drafting table, and maybe one week before a print even made it into the 'do it later' cabinet. His concentration was gone, it wasn't the degenerative brain thing, it was the festival at hand. He had always produced crap before a show, but never so much crap. Then he had really never put himself on a shooting schedule before either.

Friday morning came, Edgar had gone to the other donut shop before dark the night before. He had a nice assortment of donuts on the table when the YSM arrived. She ate about half of one donut.

"Donuts are pure sugar. They play absolute hell with the figure and the complexion." Tammy said it as if lecturing one of her children.

"You mean to tell me that you don't do anything just because you enjoy it Tammy?" He continued. "Do it without considering the consequences, just because it sounds good at the time?" He said it because donuts were such a minor issue. Yet she had made a big deal about her explanation, even when one wasn't required.

"I usually give things at least a little thought. It isn't just me you know. I don't want my kids bouncing through life like balls in an arcade game." She could defend her position, he had to give her that. She had either given it a lot of thought, or read way too many self help books for young mothers.

Still Edgar had to admit she did have a well controlled figure. Something about her frame told him that she could have gone either way. He would have enjoyed seeing about twenty extra pounds on her. She would still be keeping a nice figure but losing the starving model look. However he realized that it was none of his business. A YSM would do what a YSM had to do, he supposed.

The space behind the seats of the little yellow convertible he reserved for clothes. His one soft bag took up only the space behind the passenger's seat. He had left the same amount of space behind the driver's seat for her case. The trunk was over half filled with cardboard tubes, foam core boards and broken down easels of different heights. Edgar had done festivals before.

When the YSM opened her trunk, edgar found a small cloth case. It wasn't over filled, but it wasn't soft either. He guessed that she had packed exactly the amount that the instructions advised. He had already formed a new opinion of Tammy Smith. Tammy was the ultimate conformist.

As Edgar lifted the firm but not bulging bag from the trunk he said out loud, "Long weekend ahead."

"Yes, I am so looking forward to it." Tammy answered. She had obviously missed the sarcasm in his voice. Or maybe there was none, since she was doing him a favor.

The work case was what might have been a book salesman's sample case. As a matter of fact it most likely like was a jewelry salesman's case. She could have ordered one from someplace on line. In the case of a YSM it was the most likely scenario.

It was well before noon when the little yellow convertible labored out of the parking lot. Now lest you think Edgar just took off in a car he bought a week before, let me assure you the car had been checked and tuned by a mechanic who owed Edgar a favor. The car got about twenty dollars worth of wholesale parts, and Edgar got peace of mind, all for a hundred bucks.

The underpowered car strained only when it left the stop sign from his parking lot. The small condo complex was built in what must have been a sink hole at one time. The driveway was impassable on icy days. Since it was the first of June, that wasn't a possibility unless hell really did freeze over from time to time.

Edgar noticed that Tammy was very tense. "You okay, you seem nervous."

"It feels funny to be in a car without a roof. These are supposed to be very dangerous in an accident."

"They are. It is my understanding that you are twice as likely to die in a sever crash." Edgar had no idea what the number was, if there really was a higher risk at all. "But your odds of having that crash are much higher if you drive in fear. Over compensation," he suggested.

"So are you telling me to just drive normally?"

"I think that would be best. I would also try to relax. Personally I would prefer to die in an auto crash than to live as a tomato." He noted her curious look. "In a crash sever enough to kill you in a convertible, you would most likely be in a coma if you had been in your family car."

"Oh I see your point. If I had the choice, would I rather die outright or be cared for the rest of my life with no conscious thought?"

"It wasn't exactly what I meant, but yeah that's it."

"In that case," she said that as she raised the speed of the tiny yellow car to match the traffic around them. It didn't take long for the magic of rag top to infect her. It took about three younger men in rusty pickups looking down and grinning at her. They no doubt thought it a shame that she was with her father. That really was a lust inhibitor Edgar suspected.

"I believe those boys were staring at me."

"Well I am pretty damn sure they weren't looking at me with longing in their eyes, at least I hope not." Edgar said it enjoying the YSM's smile. It had obviously been a while since she had been the object of anyone's lust. Let alone a couple of redneck teenagers in a rusty old pick up.

The totally mismatched couple had been on the road for what seemed like hours. Edgar checked his watch as the convertible cruised past the state capitol building. The two of them had been on the road for well over an hour. They weren't making very good time.

In spite of her best intentions, Tammy Smith drove like an old lady. Edgar could have made the drive faster, but he really would have been a menace in the heavy traffic around the state capitol. As it was, it took both of them to spot the exit in time to prevent a major accident.

After leaving Capitol City they switched to the smaller two lane roads which would take them to the almost coastal festival. They could have stayed on the Interstate but Edgar sensed that Tammy was terrified every time an eighteen wheeler passed.

"Tell you what, how about we look for a place to have lunch?" Edgar suggested. Even if she had a 'real' breakfast it had to be wearing thin. If not hers, his sure as hell was.

"Sure but there probably won't be much in these small towns. Unless we just go looking for something." Tammy didn't seem all that enthusiastic about lunch in a small town for some reason.

"Oh hell Mrs. Smith there will be plenty of places between here and the festival. But personally I vote for the very next one that sells food, no matter what it is." Edgar was smiling but also firm.

"Alright, we will just toss caution to the wind," Tammy agreed. Well she agreed until the next place came into view. The building was no larger than a fair sized storage shed. Certainly smaller than a garage.

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh yes, you agreed."

"But they probably don't have anything but greasy food."

"Yeah," Edgar said it with a devilish grin. "You go to save us that table under the tree over there, and I'll get the food."

"Aren't you going to ask what I want to eat." She said it to his back. Edgar had already gone.

"Howdy," he said to the chubby teenager behind the counter. There was an equally chubby black man standing over a grill. "You got a menu?"

The girl was obviously bored as she pointed to the hand made sign over the grill. The side of the road grill severed both hamburger and hot dogs. That was bad news for Tammy. The good new for Edgar was they had a million variations on the theme. He took a look at the YSM sitting on a bench under a tree looking very nervous, then he ordered two large burgers Carolina style and two trays of onion rings.

"Don't you want a coke with that?" the chubby girl asked.

"You got RC?" Edgar asked with a grin. Might as well go all the way, he thought.

"Sure," the teenie bopper replied looking insulted.

"Give me three of them."

When Edgar got to the picnic table Tammy's eyes were dancing. She was not at all comfortable. "Easy there partner, don't blow anything till we get home. I don't need you going postal on me."

It took her a few long seconds to get it. "No I'm fine. This is just a lot of new things to absorb all at once."

Edgar nodded placing the food onto the table. You ain't seen nothing yet, he thought. "I didn't know how you take your burger, but I thought you should try one of these."

 
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