The appointment was made for five-thirty so my wife Polly and I could both be there.  She worked in an office in town and I was working from home then. But my work had been slow so I really wasn’t doing much of anything at work, and when I was awoken by a knock at the front door I sat up on the couch and looked at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to five.  When I opened the door an overweight man in his sixties, wearing a white dress shirt and holding a peeling brown suitcase, stood facing me. He smiled widely.

Mr. Thornwall?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

“Bob. Bob Wallace, with Jackson Water. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he put his thick hand out and we shook. “You have a beautiful home here.”

“Thanks.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

I moved out of the way and when he stepped inside I could smell the slight scent of must. He wore brown loafers and the soles of them were dirty.  I told myself to remember to vacuum after he left.

“Kitchen’s this way,” I said.

It was overcast and the house was dark so I turned on some extra lights.  We entered the kitchen and he stood beside the sink and I stood near the table.  He placed his large briefcase on the counter and opened it, revealing pamphlets, flyers, vials, and test tubes.

“Sorry I’m early. I had a cancellation and was already in the area. I called your wife to let her know.”

“It’s no problem.”

“So when did you and Mrs. Thornwall move in?”

“About two months ago.”

“How you two liking it?”

“We love it.”

“Everything but the water.”

“We just want to know our options.”

“So what made you call us?”

We were told by neighbors that the water was bad. That it was hard and full of sediment and not suitable for drinking. It wasn’t until Polly became pregnant, only a month after we moved in, that the alleged poor quality of the water meant more to us.

“We just moved in and are curious about the quality of the water out here.”

“I understand that. I’ve been working with water for twenty-three years and there is nothing more important to me than providing the best water to every family and home I serve.”

“I wish I had the same dedication to my work.”

“And what is it that you do?”

“I work for a textbook publishing company. Sounds more impressive than it is.”

“Well you got yourself a nice place here. First time homeowner?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Reminds me of our first,” he said, turning his head to look around the room.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“We now have a place in Franklin, about forty minutes from here.”

“Do you usually come out this far?”

“Sometimes even farther. The job takes me everywhere. Spend a lot of time behind the wheel. There’s a lot of miles on this old body.”

“Seems like I’m never behind the wheel, and I’m not complaining.”

Bob nodded, but it was more to himself than it was to me.

“So, what time will your wife be getting home?”

I looked at the clock.

“About twenty minutes.”

“How about I go ahead and test the water and then we can wait for—”

“Polly.”

“For Polly to get home.”

“Sounds good.”

He tested the water and told me about his life. Born in Maine he slowly made his way down the southern seaboard, eventually ending up in North Carolina, where he had been for over twenty years. It’s where he raised his daughter. I asked him if he had any desire to keep moving south. He said he was stuck. He asked me where I was from and I told him California.

“What brought you all the way out here?”

“Work” I said. “A fresh start.”

He looked down and gave an understanding nod.

After the water test was done he sat down at the kitchen table and motioned for me to do the same.

“So, as expected, your water is hard.”

With displays that he pulled from his case he went on to explain exactly what that meant.   He lost me a few times, but I gathered that while the water was drinkable, there were high levels of stuff that he referred to as solubles, stuff like iron and magnesium, stuff that can be hard on skin and appliances.  He showed me a chart of where our water was comparatively—not the best and not the worst.

“I’ll wait until your wife gets home before I talk systems and options.”

For nearly thirty minutes we sat across from each other at the kitchen table and made small talk. We talked about the trees in the backyard, the large oaks, and how he used to have large, beautiful oaks, but they got sick and had to be taken down and he hated that it had to be done. He told me business had been slow, that more and more people had been cancelling their scheduled appointments. I felt bad and looked down at the table, knowing that in all likelihood we wouldn’t be using his services.  I even told Polly that before she called, but she insisted.

It was November and it was getting darker earlier outside, colder too, and I wanted him to leave, or for my wife to finally return home.

“Would you like a glass of water, or a beer?”

“I’m fine, but thank you.”

“Guess the water isn’t good enough for you, huh?”

He chuckled.

“I’m just not thirsty, and everything seems to go right through me these days. One of the many things to look forward to when getting old.”

I didn’t really feel like I would ever get old. I  grabbed a cold beer and sat back down. “Do you have a system?”

He paused and scratched his nose.

“We do not. We’re on a well and—”

The front door opened and I heard my wife’s heels tap inside.

“I guess your wife’s home,” he said.

I stood as Polly entered the kitchen. She smiled but looked tired.

“Hello,” she said.

“This is the water guy,” I said, standing up and taking her book bag, hanging it on the back of a chair. He stood and reached out his hand.

“Nice to meet you in person Polly, my name’s Bob, or the ‘water guy’.”

He grinned and they shook hands.

“We’re about to talk about possible water filtering systems,” I said.

“You’re just in time,” Bob said, and he sat back down with a grunt, but remained grinning.

He spent another thirty minutes telling us about different products, what they offered and how they compared. He told us which he preferred and which he believed would meet our needs. But they were all expensive, and we were saving for a baby.

“Three thousand is a lot, more than I thought it would be,” Polly said, looking at me. “Especially since we’re saving for an addition.” She put her hands on her stomach which was not yet showing. Bob broke eye contact and looked down, nodding.

“I know the costs of children,” he said. “I know them well.”

He took a deep breath and shuffled the pamphlets, then he looked back up, at both of us, trying to reengage.

“But there’s no better way to invest in your family than investing in what they consume. These systems are expensive, but that’s because they’re the best.  I can go over the options again if you’d like.”

He flipped through the pamphlets and began to open one on the table. But I was tired and didn’t want him in our house any longer—I didn’t want to waste anymore of his time.

“I think we’re going to have to talk about this. It’s a big purchase.”

“I understand.  You have my information, so if you have any questions, or if you decide on a system, please feel free to reach out at any time on any day.”

He slowly put everything back into his old suitcase and latched the latches.

“It was very nice meeting both of you, and I hope the best for everything.”

I walked him to the door where we shook hands again. He looked defeated.  I closed the front door and through the window watched him walk slowly to his old truck. Polly hugged me and I held her and I could almost feel the thing growing between us and I felt hopeful for the future.

****

I didn’t listen to music on the drive home.  I only listened to the radio when I was feeling good, and I wasn’t feeling good.  I had a feeling that they wouldn’t go through with it, but the thought of it and the reality of it are two very different things. And one stung a helluva lot more.  We needed the money to fix our daughter’s car and to help with our granddaughter’s childcare.  The disappointment made my head spin and my stomach churn. I tried to focus only on the road ahead and soon I was home, pulling into the thinly graveled driveway.

It was dark and Sheryl had turned on the lights for me like she always did.  The house looked better at night, with just the moonlight and the porch light. You couldn’t see the worn roof, the faded paneling, and the rotten railings and stairs.

I sat in the truck for a while, listening to the engine tick and the crickets chirp, not wanting to go inside, not yet.  Our house was small and it was full—our adult daughter had recently moved in with her own daughter and we were taking care of both.  She had gone through a bad time and started drinking and had something of a nervous breakdown and doctors and psychiatrists were involved. We were trying to get her back on track. But our resources were few and our debt had only gotten deeper.

The wooden stairs creaked and the railing felt even looser as I made my way onto the porch. I felt a sudden chill and knew it would soon get colder. The front door was unlocked. It was light inside, warm too. I smelled something cooking and it smelled good.  I was hungry and I realized that I hadn’t eaten all day. I slid off my shoes and placed my briefcase beside them, then I followed the smell to the kitchen, where Sheryl stood above the stove. Her apron was on and steam rose around her.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Dinner is almost ready.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Meatloaf, potatoes, broccoli.”

I sat at the kitchen table.

“Sounds great. Where’s Shannon and Ness?”

“They’re in the bedroom. It wasn’t a good day for Shannon.”

“What happened?”

“Another episode.”

“Is Ness feeling better?”

“Yes. The medicine seemed to have helped.”

“Better have for how damn expensive it was.”

“How were your appointments?”

She turned off the stove and pulled down some plates.

“No luck today,” I said, looking down at the floor that needed to be swept and mopped.

Sheryl was suddenly behind me, her arms around me. She kissed the top of my head. “We’ll have better luck soon. I can feel it.”

Then the oven timer went off and the baby began to cry and I knew that she was wrong.

 

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