MOVIN’ ON

Without giving a great deal of consideration as to what is inside, Bibby puts her key in the front door lock and turns it. Jeff, one step behind her, is holding a large, heavy carton filled with necessities. A strong, stale smell almost gags Bibby until the sunshine floods in. Jeff puts the box on a wooden table, the only piece of furniture the previous owners left. The table wobbles on its 3 matching length legs and one about 2 inches too short. ‘That’s nothing, Bib, I can saw off the 3 long legs, some day, or we can call Good Will and they’ll take it out of here. Let’s get all the windows open!’

The living room windows slide up as if they are on a sheet of greasy ice. The dining room’s big bay window, the place where dreams can be born, don’t budge. Bibby puts her arms around Jeff. Jeff enfolds Bibby. Their great expectations for their new old house crumble for a while. Impatient Jeff gets an extension ladder from their van and gives the bay window a careful exam from the outside. He pushes from where he stands while Bib uses all her strength from the dining room. No use. No use crying, being upset. They decide to check the kitchen and put away whatever they can in the pantry.

The moving van must be on its way. There is little to do. Mrs. McCarty left the place clean. Bib just dry mops the floors to get the accumulated dust out. All the lovers can do is wait. Jeff gets antsy, doesn’t like being unoccupied. ‘Bib, how’s your back?’ ‘Why? Nothing’s wrong with my back.’ ‘Then let’s go upstairs and see how soft the floor is.’ He winks and smiles. She gets the drift and takes his hand. They spread their clothes on the floor and never think about the missing mattress. There is no grappling, no rush. It is a warm, wonderful way to initiate their bedroom. With the van not yet there, they test the guest room.

Jeff had the house prepared for their moving in. The water, electricity, A C and heat are in order. The fridge is on low and cold. There is time for a quick shower but there are no towels, not a single roll of Bounty but there is toilet tissue in place and it suffices for their faces and other spots. Together they go outside, sit on the cool granite steps to wait. ‘Bibby, Mayflower moving van approaching from the West.’ It backs into the driveway and four hulks get out. All of the carefully marked cartons go to the right places. Jeff had prepared large simple drawings of each room and what furniture goes where. Those he tapes to every door. Within two hours everything is done.

The four Atlases are ready to leave when Jeff gets another great idea. He calls the driver over and explains about the bay windows. ‘Maybe you strong men can open them. Will you try?’ ‘No problem.’ Man #1 can’t do it and gives up. Man #2 looks over the situation, takes off his shoes and climbs up on the bowed window skirt. He feels around the inside panels, pulls a small screwdriver from his back pocket and releases an almost invisible safety lock, one burglars usually don’t see.All 3 windows open. The driver gives Jeff his bill. Jeff signs it and hands him a check in full, plus $20 to each of the 3 workers and $40 for the Bay Window Savior.

The van heads East. Jeff and Bib fix sandwiches from the contents of the carton still on the old table that might get fixed someday. They are drugged on tiredness, exhausted, plain tired.

Their mattress is clean, comfortable, even without the sheets in place. It’s just as good as the guest room floor, maybe better.