Hindsight

It was early spring in Appleby, Wisconsin with its lush green flora, trickling melted snow, and Robins announcing their presence. Anheuser Busch, a brewery located just fifteen miles outside of town, provided the residents with much needed jobs. Anja Müller was one of their long-standing employees, that was until her second pregnancy.

“Gunther,” Anja called out to her first-born while holding onto the metal railing that led up to their single wide. “Gunther!”

“Yes, mutter.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“She’s here.”

Anja was having difficulty standing erect. She held on to the railing with a firm grip.

“Keep an eye on her.”

“Do I have to? I want to go over to Anke’s. His mutter bought him a new game.”

“Yes, you have to. She’ll run out into the street. You have to keep your sister safe. Gunther, are you listening to me?”

Gunther looked down at his sister with her small head, her slanted eyes, and her protruding tongue. “Oh, alright,” he said with a frown.

The cool, fresh air was suddenly cut with the stench from the paper mill, a mixture of mold and mildew saturated in Elmer’s glue. Anja retched. Covering her mouth with her hand, she staggered back into the trailer.



Anja stayed in space #13 at View Pine, a trailer park on the outskirts of town. It was within walking distance to the many liquor stores that lined Main Street. Anja opened the cupboard door. No more brandy. Without thinking, she opened the refrigerator. It was dark inside and a warm rotting odor met her in the face. She remembered after seeing the melting bags of vegetables, sausages, and TV dinners in the sink. No ice. Anja looked at the clock. If I hurry, she thought, I could be back in time to meet the delivery truck. Having totaled her car, Anja grabbed a rag from the dirty laundry basket, covered her nose, and staggered out the park.



The back-up beeper sounded as the Lowes delivery truck parked in front of the trailer. It was two o’clock.

“It’s here!” Anja said into the phone. “I have to go. I’ll call you back.” She swallowed down the last drop of muddled fruit in brandy. As she looked in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she adjusted her overly tight dress that revealed her distended abdomen. She tried to smooth back the greasy strands of hair that fell onto her face and unsuccessfully attempted to remove some of the yellow-brown smoke stains on her teeth with a washcloth. There was a time in high school when boys turned their heads as she passed by their lockers. But now, after two babies, an abusive husband, and lots of heavy smoking and drinking, those days are faded memories.



Anja bent over to pick up Mila who was now eating something from the floor as two men wheeled in a white Frigidaire, 18 cubic feet with a top freezer.

“Do you want us to haul away your old refrigerator?” one delivery man said, “It’s only thirty bucks.”

“Thirty dollars for this piece of junk?” Anja grinned at her failed attempt to flirt. “Just place it in the shed.”

With Mila on her hip, Anja stood back and admired her shiny, new appliance that clearly did not go with the décor of the kitchen. The walls were stained a yellowish brown from nicotine in the cigarette smoke, the cabinets were old, splintering, and smelled of stale wood saturated in roach spray, and the refrigerator was much too large for the small, single wide.

“Gunther!” Anja shouted. Gunther dragged himself into the kitchen. “Come help watch Mila.” She put Mila back down onto the floor. “Don’t you just love it?”

“Mutter, can I go to Anke’s now?”

“Why do you want to go to that boy’s house? I need you here helping with Mila. Look, this new refrigerator will keep our food from spoiling. Don’t you like it?” Gunther did not answer. Anja saw that Gunther looked sad. Anja gathered the defrosted food from the sink and placed them into the freezer, along with a bag of melting ice she bought from the liquor store.

“Take Mila outside, but don’t go far and keep her safe.” The seven-year-old took the three-year-old by the hand and walked out of the kitchen.



The ice cubes clinked against the glass as Anja finished off more brandy with fruit and soda. She sat down at the dinette table with the phone. The first person she thought of calling was Floyd. Even after he broke up with her, she still had feelings for him. She told him the diagnosis did not bother her, but Floyd needed to go through chemo alone. “Floyd?... What are you doing?... Well, it’s here…yes… I am… yes, yes, do that. I’ll fix you a drink…. Okay, bye.”

“Sophie, hi…It’s Anja…That’s ok. I just wanted to say that my refrigerator arrived…Yes, remember? I told you my refrigerator broke?... It hasn’t been that long, has it?... What?... No, I only met him for drinks… No, he dropped me off here, I think…. He said that?... I’m telling you, we didn’t… Sophie, I wouldn’t do that... Okay…. Bye.

Anja stood up and walked to the counter. Feeling dizzy, she grabbed onto it to steady herself. “I never did that…I wouldn’t do that.” She poured herself another Old Fashion, swallowed it down, and then made another one.

Anja staggered into the living room toward the couch. The shag carpeting was so high, her foot stuck and she lost her balance. Anja fell to the floor. She could smell the stale vomit where she threw up just two nights ago. Too drunk to get up, she pulled a cushion down from the couch and placed it under her head. Anja fell asleep.

When Anja woke up, the room was dark. Only the streetlamp in front of the trailer provided the light she needed to see the clock. It was seven o’clock. Consciousness began to dawn. “Gunther!” There was no answer. Anja grabbed onto the arm of the couch and stood to her feet, but could not maintain the stance. She fell onto the couch. “Gunther!” Still, no answer. Anja tried again to stand, and this time she made it to the kitchen table knocking over the empty cans of soda. Holding onto the table and the countertop she opened the window. “Gunther! Gunther!” Again, no answer. Anja slid down into one of the kitchen chairs, reached for her phone, and began calling the neighbors. No one had seen neither Gunther nor Mila. Anja phoned Floyd.



Within moments, he walked through the door to find Anja with her head on the table, drunk, and rambling to herself.

“Come on, Anja.” He walked her into the bathroom, stood her under the shower head, and proceeded to sober her up. She resisted violently. He sat her down on the toilet and tried to brush her teeth. Gagging, she threw up in the waste basket. “The police will be here soon,” he said. “You must get dressed.”

Before she could protest, two police officers knocked at her door, called out to announce themselves, and then walked in.

Officer Schulz was a heavy set, middle aged, man and Officer Krüger was a young female.

“She’ll be right out,” Floyd yelled as he stripped Anja of her clothes. She walked out in her bath robe with Floyd at her side. The phone rang. Floyd answered it. It was one of the neighbors.

“Oh, he is?...” Floyd nodded his head to everyone and announced that Gunther was at Mrs. Miller’s home. Her dachshund gave birth a month ago and Gunther was playing with the puppies. Everyone was relieved. “Send them home, will you?” Floyd said, and then he suddenly looked worried. He announced that only Gunther was at Mrs. Miller’s, not Mila.

“Not Mila? Officer Krüger asked. So, where’s the girl?”

“Gunther said she was safe,” Floyd announced, “and that he would go get her.”

“Go get her?” Asked Officer Schulz. “Get her from where?”

“Mrs. Miller said Gunther left to go get Mila.” Floyd announced.

“He’s a good boy,” Anja said seeming to perk up. “He takes good care of his sister.”

Minutes later, Gunther came into the trailer. “It’s too dark in there. I can’t see.”

Officer Schulz knelt down to Gunther’s level. “See where, son? Show me.”

Gunther turned and walked out of the trailer with everyone following. He walked into the small back yard and then pointed. “She’s in there.” Gunther pointed to a beat up, old, medium-sized metal shed whose rusted door was half opened.

Anja screamed! Floyd held her in his arms. Both officers turned on their flashlights.

Officer Schulz opened the metal shed door all the way.

There in the darkness stood the old refrigerator. Its door was closed.

Officer Schulz walked up to the shed and reached inside to open the refrigerator door.

Both officers directed their flashlights inside the refrigerator.

Officer Schulz stood still for a moment. He bent down and then reached inside the refrigerator. Without saying a word, he stood up. He looked at Officer Krüger and shook his head.

Anja screamed an awful wailing of a sound. The neighbors slowly starting to gather, began whispering, but Officer Krüger motioned for them to move back. Only Floyd Milton was allowed nearby.



The forest surrounding Appleby has now changed its colors to rust, orange, and yellow. It has been seven months since Anja took that staggering walk and left View Pine, the trailer park on the outskirts of town, to walk to one of the many liquor stores that line Main Street. She now spends most of her time helping Gunther with his homework. The new refrigerator is now covered with magnetic alphabet shapes, a grocery list, and phone numbers. The old refrigerator has long since been removed from the metal shed in the back yard.