The Ladies of the Warehouse

“I’m glad you felt well enough to come,” Jimmy said as they stepped out into the cloudy summer heat that would never feel like Valentine’s Day to Kathy. “I’d have hated to have to look at Mrs. Blodgett laid out in there alone. What a bloody awful day for a funeral.”

“Is there ever a good day to say goodbye to your true love forever?” Kathy asked. 

“But Valentine’s Day weekend most of all!” Jimmy replied. “All right, I know you don’t like that kind of thing as much as I do. It’s like the ladies at the warehouse all used to say, I’m a sap in a man’s body, but, I mean…God, poor Mr. Blodgett! Fancy finding your wife dead in the shower! But he looked like he was coping pretty well.”

“At least it’s not also the dead of winter, like back home,” Kathy said, looking down the block and feeling, for the first time all day, well enough for something to eat. She didn’t know this suburb, but there’d been a café by the train station as usual. It was amazing how alike they all looked after a while. 

“You bloody Yanks get everything backwards with the weather, don’t you?” Jimmy flashed that grin that had always made Kathy forgive him for comments like that, ever since China. “Listen, if you’re feeling up to it, let’s go home and…” He leaned over and whispered something in Kathy’s ear that made her blush. 

“I’ve been thinking the same,” she grinned, and cast a look back at the funeral home. “Since we still can. Not like the Blodgetts. But first, I think I’m feeling well enough to eat. I saw a cafe by the train station?”

“God, I’m glad you said that!” Jimmy set off up the street, holding his hand out behind him for Kathy. “Think I could murder a plate of chips! You’re sure you’re feeling better?”

“Mostly,” Kathy said, and she groped for the next words. Once again they wouldn’t come, not with death already on his mind. 

“I wonder what it was?” Jimmy said. “Figured the chicken last night wasn’t cooked right. Maybe mine was and yours wasn’t?”

“Could be.” It was true, she mused, much too early to tell. 

“Course, Kath, I also thought maybe it was just your body telling you not to come to the funeral. I wouldn’t have blamed you, you know. If this reminded you of your dad.”

“It didn’t,” Kathy said. “Dad had cancer, remember?” She knew he remembered, or should remember. “I hate what happened to Mrs. Blodgett, but at least it was quick.”

“I doubt Mr. Blodgett felt that way, waiting for her to get out of the shower and then going in there to find her dead on the floor,” Jimmy said. “But I think I see your point. I’m sorry, Kathy. I’m sure your dad was a great dad. Not like my ma, who’s probably still alive and well out there not givin’ a shit about me. But at least I had the ladies at the warehouse. You’d have loved them, you know. Wish I’d met your dad, though.”

“He was the best.” Kathy saw her opportunity at last. “You know, you’re a lot like him, Jimmy. You really would make a great dad yourself.”

“Not that again!” Jimmy let go of her hand. “Today of all days?!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kathy snapped. 

“Kathy, I’m sorry!” he said yet again. “I should’ve told you before we got married, but I figured back then if you were willing to go through all that, then I could take it. But I just can’t. The things I used to hear at the warehouse, Jesus, Kathy, I couldn’t do that to you!”

“The warehouse ladies don’t speak for all women, do they?!” Kathy had heard far too many stories of the women he’d worked with in his first job out of university. Marci, Peg, Angela and Darlene – Kathy had never met any of them, but she felt like she knew them all like long-lost cousins. And she loved and hated them all at once in the same way.

“They speak for me,” Jimmy said. “Look, I haven’t seen my mother since I was twelve, I learned everything I know about women and the facts of life from them. And the things they said about giving birth…Marci knew her stuff, you know! ’Look, Jimmy, you try shoving a doll up your nose and see how empowering that is!’ And I hadn’t even said it was empowering in the first place! I just wondered if it was worth it.”

“Didn’t Marci say it was? Didn’t she love her kids?”

“She said she did,” Jimmy said. “But you were an English major, weren’t you? You know what people say and what they really feel and you know how often it’s not the same. And it wasn’t just Marci. I asked Peg once, wasn’t it any help to have her husband with her in the delivery room, and –” 

“I know, I know,” Kathy said. “Not a bit of difference!” she mimicked in the Aussie accent she’d never quite nailed down. “But really, Jimmy, the way you talk about these women, I mean, was there anything they didn’t have a chip on their shoulder about?”

“They were working the night shift at a warehouse. How much do you think they loved their lives? You know what I thought of it, that’s why I went to China! Aren’t you glad I did, sweetie?” He tried taking Kathy’s hand again. 

She pulled it away and stopped in her tracks. “Of course I am, but look, Mister Radical Feminist, your old friends…”

 “Just a bunch of bogans, right?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that!”

“You don’t need to say it. We all know what Americans think of us down under, ‘specially the ones from the leafy green suburbs like you!”

“You know I’m not like that!” Kathy had to blink back tears of rage. “You know I’m not a snob. Yeah, I’m from the suburbs, but after my dad died we had to move into a tiny little apartment and…oh, fuck you.” She buried her face in her hands. 

Jimmy looked up the street to the cafe, only one more block, but the skies looked ready to pour again. “Kathy, I’m sorry.” He offered her a hug, and she surprised him by allowing it. “Yeah, I know you’re not a snob. But the warehouse ladies, look, maybe they were bogans, but they were the type who tell it like it is. I was a little punk fresh out of uni and I didn’t know a damn thing about women, I needed that! I know you’re not a snob, but I don’t think Americans get it…”

“We have bogans in America too,” Kathy sniffled. “We just call them Republicans.” She laughed. Jimmy didn’t. She didn’t bother to explain. “But look, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not going to hate you when I’m in labour?”

“I’m sure Darlene didn’t plan to hate her husband then either.” Jimmy let go and turned to wait for the walk light. “Nobody plans to shove her husband’s head into the wall so hard he needs stitches. But you know what she said afterward?!”

“I’m not Darlene, am I?”

“His own fault for sticking his nose - and his dick - where they didn’t belong!” Jimmy set off across the street. 

“Sounds like a real healthy marriage,” Kathy grumbled. “That’s not us, and you know it.”

“I want to keep it that way,” Jimmy said. “I want to keep it, full stop. I want us to grow old together. And I sure don’t want you telling your girlfriends how useless I was while you were lying there getting ripped in half!”

“For Pete’s sake, Jimmy, it’s safer than driving a car.”

“You watched Downton Abbey too, didn’t you?”

“That’s fiction! And it was a hundred years ago!”

“But it could happen.” They reached the awning outside the cafe just as the first drops began to fall, and a waitress was hurriedly clearing off the outside tables. “Got a table inside, ma’am?” he asked. 

“Certainly,” she said, clutching the salt and pepper shakers in both hands. “Come on in.”

“Can we drop it for lunch?” Jimmy asked, stepping inside. 

Kathy sighed and otherwise didn’t answer. 

She allowed herself to be happy with being safe and dry inside, for it was pouring in sheets outside by the time they took their seats at the table. “I’ll never get used to that,” she said. “I know you always said, plan for all four seasons in one day in Melbourne, but still.”

“You’re American then?” piped up the woman at the table next to theirs, who to Kathy’s apprehension had a little boy in a stroller. She was spreading something on a slice of bread. 

“She is,” Jimmy said. “I’m a native.”

“We met teaching English in China,” Kathy said. “And it was a good time not to go back to the States.”

“Oh, I know!” said the woman. “Good on you getting out.” The baby let out a yelp, and she turned and glared at him. “Scotty, that’s enough!” She handed him the bread. “Eat, already!” she ordered.

Jimmy bent over to the boy’s eye level and grinned. “Hi, Scotty,” he said. As Scotty had turned his attention to his snack, Jimmy added, “Late for your lunch too, is it?” 

“Mmmmm.” Scotty nodded. 

“What’ve you got there, Scotty, jellybread?” Kathy asked. “I loved that when I was your age!”

“Jellybread?” their new friend asked. 

“She means jam and bread,” Jimmy said. “What we call jelly, they call Jello.”

“All those little differences must drive you crazy!” the woman said. 

“I’ve had two years to get used to it,” Kathy said. “Sometimes I even remember to put all those U’s in words we spell without them.”

“I can--” Their new friend was interrupted by a howl, and both women turned to see Jimmy clutching the jam-bread inches off the floor. 

“Caught it,” Jimmy said triumphantly, handing it back to Scotty. “He got some on his face, though.” He lost no time in dipping his serviette in the water Kathy had poured for him, and wiping Scotty’s face clean. “There you go, kid,” he said. “Man, this brings back memories. Snack time in China, some poor kid always spilled something. What a mess!”

“And you loved it,” Kathy reminded him. 

“And I loved it,” Jimmy agreed. As Scotty was fussing now, Jimmy slid down out of his chair to look at him eye-to eye, and rubbed his head gently. “It’s all right, kid,” he said. “I get tired this time of day, too.” He chuckled, and Scotty laughed a bit too. Kathy felt herself half a world away and most of a lifetime ago in her bed, and her father’s voice was clear as a bell singing her favourite Peter, Paul and Mary songs to lull her to sleep. 

“He’s a natural!” Scotty’s mother said. “When are you having one of your own?”

“Well…” Kathy started. 

“Never,” Jimmy said. “I’d be the world’s worst dad.”

“Oh, that can’t be true!” said Scotty’s mother. 

“Some women I really respect told me so,” Jimmy replied. “‘Jimmy, you wouldn’t last half a day at it, you ought to stick to your book learning!’ So I did. Besides, you know how many mothers back in China told me I only loved their kids so much because I only had to watch them three hours a day?”

“They were right,” she said, to Kathy’s chagrin. “Still, there’s nothing like it.”

“Just like Marci said,” Jimmy said, giving Kathy a triumphant smirk and a nod. “Marci was one of those friends I mentioned,” he explained to their new friend. “Every night on our dinner break it was one horror story after another about her kids, waking her up all the time, giving her grey hair, but she always snuck in something about how great it was. But she never really showed it, you know? She just said it.”

“Oh, well, really…” Scotty’s mother was interrupted when the waitress arrived, but she gave Kathy a sympathetic look.

“Good afternoon,” said the waitress. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked. 

“Two VB’s please,” Jimmy said over his shoulder, still letting Scotty play with his fingers with his free hand.

“Make that one,” Kathy said. “I’ll just have a sparkling water, please.”

“You’re turning down beer?” Jimmy looked at her like he didn’t recognize her. “I’ve never seen you turn down beer on a weekend!”

“Well, I…” Kathy groped for an answer.

“Oh, you’re worried about getting sick again,” Jimmy said. “Sorry, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Kathy nodded. 

“She had food poisoning this morning, we think,” Jimmy explained to Scotty’s mother. “We won’t get that kind of chicken again, okay, Kathy? Or I’ll make sure to cook it more next time. I’m really sorry I didn’t do that this time.”

“He cooks for you too?” Scotty’s mother asked Kathy. “Didn’t you win the lottery!”

“I guess so.” Kathy sipped her water and wished she had just ordered the beer after all. For all she knew, it really was food poisoning. 

She smiled through lunch. She smiled through the mother’s excruciating parting comment that Jimmy would make a wonderful dad. She smiled through his don’t-you-dare-go-there look in response to their new friend. 

She gave up the charade toward the end of the meal when he said, “Ready for dessert when we get home?” 

“I’m not sure if it’s a good time for that.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “I saw, in the bathroom this morning. Wait, could that be why you were sick?”

“I doubt it. You know I just get backaches.”

“But you didn’t this month? You didn’t mention it anyway.”

Kathy shrugged. Only now did it occur to her that she really hadn’t gotten her backaches yet. But she hadn’t even bothered to check the calendar – was it only three weeks? Wishful thinking, maybe. “Want to have dessert here instead?” she asked hurriedly.

“Do you feel well enough for that?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Then she stood up. “I really have to pee.”

“Again? Didn’t you just go at the funeral parlor?”

“Guess I drank too much water,” Kathy said over her shoulder. “Order something for us, okay?”

They split a slice of chocolate cake so decadent it made Kathy feel like she was back home. “American size, huh?” Jimmy said. 

“I don’t see you holding back on your share.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining, I’m just saying!” Then he did pause and put his fork down. “You all right, Kathy?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Just...my dad made the best chocolate cake. One of my last memories of him before he got sick was the one time he let me help him. I can still remember the sky blue shirt I was wearing, and how I got so much flour on it that it looked almost white.”

“But was the cake good?”

“He said it was. I knew it didn’t taste like when he made it himself. God, I hope I didn’t tell him that. I hope it was a wonderful memory for him, too.”

“I’m sure it was, Kath. Just like all our memories of the kids and their artwork. Remember how they told us in training, we’d come to love them. We’ll always have that, eh?”

Kathy nodded, and ate the rest of the cake slowly, waiting out the storm. 

They walked to the train station in silence. It was eight stops to home. Kathy pretended to fall asleep on Jimmy’s shoulder for most of the way. 

He shook her awake when they were nearly there. “Thanks,” she said with a yawn even she thought sounded fake. “You were great with that little boy.” 

“I told you before, I’m always up for going back to China if that’s what you want. You know, Angela said, my last day in the warehouse, I was going places. We can always keep on going, no need to stay here.”

Kathy gave him a blank look. 

“What? It was just an idea, Kathy!”

“You told me before you’d like to have one of our own.”

“People change, Kathy, okay? I just can’t put you through that!”

She didn’t answer.

“If you want to adopt, you know…”

“I don’t.”

It was all she said for the walk home from the station. “You’re feeling sick again, aren’t you?” Jimmy asked as they got to their building.

“A little,” Kathy lied.

“Want some tea?” he asked. “I’ll do the laundry, all right? You just curl up on the couch and get some rest?”

“Thanks.” 

But when they got to their flat, she headed straight for the bathroom. 

“Again?” he asked. “Want me to get you a doctor’s appointment?”

“No!” Kathy snapped as she shut the bathroom door. “I’ll be fine! I told you, I just drank too much water.”

She nearly had herself convinced that was all it was as she washed her hands - until her eyes landed on what Jimmy had seen earlier. The three tampons she had optimistically set on the counter that morning were, of course, still right where she’d left them next to the tissue box. Jimmy wasn’t stupid, but he was a man. But what if she was sick again tomorrow morning? 

I’ve got until then, Kathy told herself, and she picked up one of the tampons and put it back in the box under the sink.