Freement by William James Johnson Chapter 17

With the end of Christmas exams, students were eagerly preparing for their three week holiday, looking forward to returning home to their families and loved ones. My Freement movement had grown to thirty five in the six weeks of its
existence and the word about our group was moving slowly on the campus.
Back at Rooney's Roost everything was quiet. The guys had all left for their vacations. Only Ma Rooney and I were left in the large house. I was reading in my room when she knocked on my door.
"Sorry to bother you Marty. I'll only be a minute."
"Have a seat."
"I just wanted to tell you I'm not going to be here for the holidays. My sister in Holton has asked me to spend Christmas with them."
"That's wonderful. I'm happy for you."
"It's just...I hate going away, leaving you alone like this."
"Don't worry. I've got friends in town I've been planning to visit. Christmas is a good time to look them up."
"I'm glad. You'll be alone in the house. There's plenty of food in the kitchen. Just help yourself."
"Thanks. And you have a nice Christmas with your sister."
"I will, and Merry Christmas to you son."
I kissed the old lady gently on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."
A tremendous loneliness crept over me when she left. This was the seventh Christmas I had spent away from my family. I desperately wanted to know how they were, but I could not face them. All the ridiculous things which had twisted my life came into focus as I recalled Christmas at home. We used to open our gifts before going to Midnight Mass. Mom would play carols on the piano and everyone would sing. It was a special occasion because Dad went to church with us. For once we were a complete family.
He was proud of me serving Mass as an altar boy. I also remembered my first Christmas at Aggie's, that fearsome night of so many firsts. Poor Aggie. She meant well. She never realized it, but her ideas of self-responsibility formed the basic ideas of Freement. What a source of inspiration, a disconsolate alcoholic.
I decided to visit Aggie. Bring her a present. Find out about Liz and the baby. I would have preferred visiting Clara and her family, but she had gone to Tilbrite to spend Christmas with her girl friend. So Aggie it was. At least it would get me out of the house and away from feeling sorry for myself.
The stubble on my chin felt rough. I'll shave and put on my best suit. Maybe Liz would be there. Imagine Liz and our baby. I wondered if it was a boy or girl. I suppose Liz went back with her family after she had the baby. I couldn't see her wasting her life with Aggie.
As I drove through the city, the rushing pre-Christmas crowd was reminiscent of those tedious days I spent at Harold's making like a clerk. I saw Harold's huge sign, "Harold's the Family Store." Appropriately named. The entire Silverman family were involved in it someway. I decided to get Aggie a gift at Harold's, and at the same time satisfy my curiosity.
Roaming through the crowded aisles I caught the lingering scent from the perfume counter. The image of Judy, with the glistening black hair filled my mind. That's what I'd get Aggie, a nice bottle of perfume. I fingered the containers, enjoying the mystery of their exotic names. How do you select perfume? Would Aggie appreciate a bottle of "My Sin". I smiled at the idea.
"May I help you?"
I couldn't believe it. It was Judy. She had put on some weight since the last time I had seen her. She was just as beautiful as ever, only now it was a voluptuous beauty. She still wore dark clothes that enhanced the shiny blackness of her hair.
She was wearing a wedding band.
"I'd like some perfume for a lady."
"How old is the lady?"
She hadn't recognized me. I was dying to ask her if Dave Silverman was the lucky guy.
"She's in her early fifties."
"Your mother?"
"No. Just a good friend."
"Chanel Number Five is a good choice for an older woman."
"Thanks. That sounds fine. Would you gift wrap it please?"
"I'd be glad to."
Taking the bottle and my money, she bent over to pick up a small box from under the counter. For a moment I enjoyed the straining of the dark material across her full bottom. There was a lightning surge to my groin as I saw how complete and promising was this black roundness. The edge of her panties formed a ridge along her voluptuous curves.
"Here you are. I'm sure she'll like it."
Judy smiled the same practised smile she gave to all her customers. She still didn't recognize me. As I left Harold's, I caught a glimpse of David talking to a couple of clerks. He had put on lots of weight. I guess they had decided to grow old and fat together.
Turning into Davin Street, I saw the familiar black shapes of decaying mansions. Driving along slowly to 417, I was amazed I was able to put up with it for so long. There it was. The same old ladies' refuge. But wait. It's not the same. There were more lights on in the rooms. Coming up the walk I could see the main living room had been redecorated. Behind the heavy door was the sound of laughter.
I knocked and waited. Knocked again. Someone was coming. The door opened all the way. A middle aged man in working clothes , strained to see me more clearly. I moved into the light of the doorway.
"Hello. I would like to see Mrs. Conway please."
"She's moved. Don't live here anymore."
"Moved!"
"Yeah. About a month ago. Sold out and left."
"Any idea where she went?"
"Who is it Henry?" asked a woman, coming out of Aggie's kitchen.
"Fellow's looking for Aggie."
"Ask him in."
We went into the living room. Three small children crowded around me and he sent them out of the room, and returned with his wife. She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down facing me.
"I'm John Martindale. I used to live here."
"This is my wife Martha and I'm Hank Anderson."
"Then you haven't heard what happened here?" asked his wife.
"Something happened to Aggie?"
"Not Aggie. The young girl who stayed with her. It was awful."
"Tell him," said the husband.
"Apparently this girl was going to have a baby..."
"She wasn't married" interrupted her husband.
"Aggie...that is Mrs. Conway offered to look after her. She never told me the story behind it. But anyway this girl was sort of mental if you know what I mean. She was one of those..."
"Jesus freaks" said her husband.
"She prayed all the time. Almost drove Aggie out of her mind. Aggie claims it was all this pressure that got her drinking again. She needed it to relieve the strain and the two of them got into terrible arguments. It got so bad all the other tenants finally left. There was just the two of them in this big house. The girl kept following Aggie all over the house. She never shut up. As Aggie tells it the girl was arguing with her at the top of the stairs and Aggie got so fed up she pushed her away and she slipped on that old throw rug and fell down all those stairs. They got a doctor right away but she lost her baby."
"Boy or girl?"
"I don't think Aggie ever told us."
"What's it matter. The kid was nuts. Tell him the rest Martha."
"Well after she lost her baby Aggie said she couldn't stop crying. Aggie got her some pills from the doctor to help her sleep. Aggie didn't know what else to do. We didn't know her very well but she seemed like a caring person."
"She was. Aggie was a good person" I said.
"I guess one night after another of their terrible fights the girl went right out of her mind."
"She overdosed on those pills and killed herself" said Hank.
"My God..."
"She did. When it was over I guess it hit Aggie so hard she decided to sell this place and get away from it all."
I wasn't about to tell them about my part in this tragedy. I just wanted to get out of there and away from these cruel memories. I stood up and started for the door.
"Thank you for telling me all about it Mrs. Anderson."
"Don't you want to know where to find her?"
"Her?"
"Aggie. I understand she has a small place on Brush Street."
"She's a no good alcoholic. Sponging drinks in all those dives. You'd be better off if you'd forget all about her."
"Here. Mrs. Anderson. I'd like you to have this. It's a little gift I got for Aggie."
"Oh really. I couldn't."
"Take it for Chrissake. It's Christmas," said her husband.
"Thank you Mr. Martindale, and Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas."
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