Unexpectedly, Milo - Matthew Dicks [44]
He might not be willing to tell her about the submariner and his demands, but suddenly Milo’s childhood secrets didn’t seem so bad after all. If only he could help Freckles understand this. He knew it was ridiculous to think this way. Freckles was, after all, a complete stranger. For all he knew, these tapes were ten years old and she had long since overcome the specter of her adolescent indiscretions, but still, he couldn’t help but feel a need to come to her aid and relieve this unnecessary sense of guilt that was burdening her. And the more he watched the tapes and learned about her life, the greater this need to help her intensified.
Milo took a moment to jot down several bits of information gleaned from the tape.
Mrs. Walker
Harry Truman Middle School
Sherry Ferroni
Freckles had mentioned other names too, but he would have to rewind the tape if he needed them. In his fixation on the footage, he had forgotten to write down a single word. He would go back and get the names later, if needed. For now he reached over and pressed play.
Well, that took longer than I thought. Damn, it’s almost two A.M. But at least it was something. More than hospital cafeterias and Jell-O. God. I haven’t thought about some of those people for years. I wonder where Sherry Ferroni is today.
Anyway, I’m going to try to go to sleep now. I have a fight at ten tomorrow and need some sleep if I’m not going to lose in the first three minutes.
Milo saw Freckles’s hand reach for the camera, probably motioning to turn it off, but then it stopped in midair. She paused for a moment then brought the camera up to her face, so close that only the center features of her face—her short nose, her blue eyes, and those large brown freckles—appeared on screen. Her next words were said in a whisper.
I’m sorry, Sherry. I really, really am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.
Milo thought that she might cry had the tape continued a second longer, but instead the screen went black, then blue, indicating that tape number three had reached its end. Had it been a second or two longer, Milo thought that he might’ve cried too.
Instead, he picked up his pencil one more time and added the word Fight to the list, followed by a question mark. Though he desperately wanted to pop in tape number four, he resisted the urge and turned off the television and the camera.
Finally, he would keep his promise and do a little research.
chapter 12
Timothy Coger reached out and shook Milo’s hand, something he did quite often, usually at the conclusion of some minor piece of business. At first it unnerved Milo, but he had grown accustomed to the odd habit after a while.
Milo would assist his client in paying some bills. Mr. Coger would extend his hand after the envelopes had been sealed.
Milo would replace the screens on the front and back doors with glass for the winter. Timothy Coger would vigorously shake his hand upon the task’s completion.
Milo would set the VCR to record a PBS documentary or a rerun of Newhart, and his client would offer his hand in thanks.
There were days when Milo shook Timothy Coger’s hand a dozen times, and once he shook the man’s hand three times in the span of a minute, after Milo had dispatched with a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses on the doorstep (handshake), watered the geraniums on the same doorstep (another handshake), and retrieved the mail from the box on the corner (a third handshake). In Timothy Coger’s estimation, the completion of any chore represented the conclusion of a business transaction, and as such, a handshake was required.
Though shopping was something that Timothy Coger no longer did alone (lifting the bags had become too difficult for him, and Milo suspected that he was becoming more and more anxious about being outside his home), his client had no desire to march around the supermarket with a babysitter either, so he and Milo always shopped separately, with Mr. Coger starting at the front of the store in the produce section and Milo moving to the