Where Are You, Baby?
Where Are You, Baby?
by Sam Ford
Jamie hated the hospital. Everything pale and clean. Everyone either terribly concerned or exhausted. Too fast. Too slow. No news. Bad news. Waiting. Waiting, waiting. Leaving.
But, like most other things, Jamie had accepted it as life. He didn’t believe in complaining, just bitching, but the hospital seemed like too big a deal to bitch about. People lost real things there. Jamie was used to bitching about the local police or the price of gas. The hospital made those hardships seem like cake.
His mother was lying there sleeping. She could’ve been dead for all Jamie knew. He was all too used to seeing her stretched out between the metal rails, eyes closed, looking starched as the shirt he wore to his prom. That shirt’d ended up covered in dirt and blood from a fight that night. Jamie still had a scar over his eye from a set of brass knuckles that blind-sided him. His hand brushed over the dented flesh and he let out a rumbling sigh. Medical machines whirred and beeped. Lights flashed. Jamie could hear voices in the hallway but could make out no words.
His mother was being overtaken by the lung cancer that three packs a day for over thirty years had made inevitable. Her face was a pinkish grey prune, wrinkled as linen. Her lips had vanished and she had no teeth left. She looked like a dying monster. Jamie had seen pictures of her in her 20’s, her skin soft, her smile like a shooting star. It was as though that girl had been slowly erased, feature by feature. She’d been all he had for most of his life. Now he was all she had. And soon she’d be gone. And Jamie wouldn’t have to come to the hospital anymore. And the loneliness that’d swallowed him most of his life would finally shit him out. He was terrified and furious.
He was thirty-two years old. He was going bald. He was a couple inches over six-feet. A ruggedly handsome man with piercing ice-blue eyes and tobacco-stained teeth. He cursed. His dog, Sarge, was old and faithful and dumb. Jamie had a goatee and a tattoo on his arm – a skull with a knife and a serpent through it. The court’d taken his driver’s license away from him for a DUI a year and change ago. He loved his mother. His real father had died when he was nine years old. None of the other men came close. None tried.
There was a clock on the wall and Jamie drew his eyes to it. It was a little after eight in the morning. And that meant Jamie had to go to work.
He touched his mother’s hand. Nothing about her changed. Nothing much changed about him either. His younger brother lived in Northern California and Jamie hadn’t spoken to him in two and a half years. He wondered how he’d take the news when it came down. He hated that he’d have to be the one to call. He’d have to call a few people. They’d all care for a little while.
***
Jamie took the bus to the parking lot of Archer’s Steak & Eggs in the middle of Main Street. It was there that Harry, his friend and co-worker, picked him up. Harry was about five foot five and his big beer-belly pushed out over his waist and hid his belt-buckle, which read “BOSSMAN” in tarnished brass. Harry had long hair combed back and wore a black leather biker vest over a Harley-Davidson T-shirt. He had kind eyes and a goofy grin. He was somewhere in the first half of his fifties. His bum knees made him seem older and his personality made him seem younger.
Jamie hopped into the shotgun seat of Harry’s pick-up. He slammed the door and Harry threw the shifter into drive. He handed Jamie a cup of coffee. Jamie took it from him without saying thanks, rolled the window down and lit a Lucky Strike. Harry began coughing immediately. He waved his hand in front of his face and rolled his own window down.
“C’mon,” Jamie said. “Jesus.”
“It’s only two months I been quit, Jamie. Show some sensitivity.”
Jamie blew a waft of smoke in Harry’s general direction. Harry gagged and Jamie chuckled. The sun threw a blinding shot against the windshield and Jamie’s eyes narrowed. He looked out the window at a lone kid riding his bike down a hillside. He took the kid for nine or ten. He could feel his heart beating in his chest.
“Did you think about what I told you about this Tanya?” he heard Harry say.
“What?” Jamie said, turning to him.
“I’m tellin’ ya’ that, y’know, Sharon says there’s this new girl at the vet’s office and her name’s Tanya. And she says to me that you should meet her. ‘Parently she’s a pretty gal. Smart. Y’know, but pretty. And Sharon, she’s been asking about ya’. Yer mom and all with that. She’d like to see you meet a nice girl, she says to me.”
Jamie scratched at his cheek and took a drag. “We’ll see,” he said.
“Yeah, ‘cause we could all go out and go to the Longhorn’s or something. Get a dinner and some beers.”
“Maybe. Whaddo we got today?”
“Doors and windows. Over in Adamsville. Garvey’s gonna’ meet us there. We’ll get them doors in today, front and back. Couple days then on the windows.”
“All the materials in?”
“Yeah, already delivered from what I know. Hopefully it’s the right shit this time.”
“That’d be nice.”
“How is yer mom, Jamie?”
“She’s alright.”
Harry was looking over at Jamie. Jamie flicked his cigarette out the window and glanced in his mirror in time to see the cherry hit the pavement and break apart.
***
Garvey was waiting for them at the worksite, a single story house with a full-length deck and a modest yard. He was similar to Harry in size but had a long beard that stretched down across his chest. He rode his Sportster everywhere. He had a tattoo of a Mac-10 on his shoulder. The words “Please, Fuck With Me” were inked underneath. He wore cheap wayfarer sunglasses, dirty blue jeans, and an old Bad Company sweatshirt. He was smoking a cigarette and walking in a circle when Harry pulled-up.
“Hey guys,” Garvey coughed. “Hey Jame. What’s new?”
Harry trotted toward Garvey. They shook hands. Jamie moved toward the house. The new doors and windows were leaning up against the wall. Jamie took his jacket off and tossed it on the railing of the deck. He lit another cigarette and stood one of the new doors up.
“Home Depot?” he asked Harry.
“Yeah. How’s it look?”
“Looks fine,” Jamie said.
“I’ll grab the gear,” Garvey said, heading toward Harry’s pick-up.
“This house’s got a list, huh?” Jamie said.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “It was moved from Cormac County I think. Back in the fifties. That’s what happens when you put it on a hill.”
“Hope you got plenty of shingles then,” Jamie said.
“We should be good. And I gotta’ get started on a rock wall at the edge of the property line today.”
“I’ll leave that to you,” Jamie grinned.
“Of course you will,” Harry said.
Garvey returned with crowbars, hammers, and two power drills.
“Charge up them spare batteries, Garvey,” Harry said.
***
Within the first three hours the men had removed both old doors and nearly completed the installation of the new ones. The first one had been relatively painless. The second one required a lot of trimming and Jamie had to reposition it in the frame twice to get the reveal exactly how he wanted it. He was a perfectionist, and that’s why Harry hired him on for jobs. As much as he bellyached about this or that, he never left something half-assed.
“Hey Jamie,” Garvey said, as he finished drilling in a new doorknob.
“What?” Jamie said, checking the open and close on the first door.
“Whaddayou call a guy who accidentally chops off his buddy’s hand with an axe?”
“I dunno.”
“An axe-hole.”
Garvey laughed and Jamie grinned, more at the way it sounded than how funny it actually was. Sometimes Jamie felt really young around the guys and sometimes he felt really old.
Harry came waddling on up to the house, his face glistening with sweat.
“That’s lunch, guys. And that goddamn wall is kickin’ my ass today.”
“I got my sandwich, Harry,” Garvey said. Garvey would buy a roast beef sandwich from the local gas station every morning, stick it on his dashboard, and let it sit in the sun till lunchtime. About that time the cheese was all melted and the mayonnaise had actually been infused into the meat.
“You wanna’ go into town and get something, Jamie?” Harry asked.
“Nah,” Jamie answered. “Just bring me back something. Turkey sandwich or whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit then,” Harry said, getting into the truck and pulling out.
“You want half a’ my sandwich, Jame?” Garvey said.
“Been roastin’ in the heat all mornin’ hasn’t it?” Jamie grimaced.
“Yeah. ‘S good that way.”
“It’s all yers,” Jamie said. He lit a cigarette. “I’m gonna’ walk around a bit.”
***
The property was surrounded by woods. Jamie pushed his way through them. He could hear chickadees and thrushes singing to each other. When he was a boy he’d grab his Swiss Army knife, a canteen, and a pair of plastic binoculars and go off into the woods on his own. It honed his sense of direction and sense of solitude. He’d talk to himself out there, pretend he was a soldier separated from his battalion. It made him feel less lonesome but more alone; for every story and experience he carved out in his imagination, he felt more and more detached from the other kids at school. He never got bullied because he had a short temper and would react violently if teased. But he never went out of his way to make friends either. Soon the Swiss Army Knife turned into a gun. The canteen turned into the occasional bottle. He liked to go hunting and fishing. Occasionally he’d find himself with a woman, but never for long enough to get truly open. The women who saw him as a project would break themselves trying to figure him. The women who saw him as a fuck-up would use him for their own lonely reasons. The only one who’d ever told him she loved him was his mother. And for a while he even rebelled against that.
His father’d died in a car wreck. On a fifth of Alexei, he’d skipped the median and been smashed to pieces by a semi. His body’d been virtually obliterated. There’d been pieces of him as far as forty yards from the crash.
Jamie knew he’d loved his father but he couldn’t remember why.
He found himself in a clearing and sat down on a long flat rock. The sun was glowing through the leaves and limbs and Jamie laid on his back. He heard the wind dance across the trees. His mother’s name was Debbie. He’d never really thought of her name much. But now he started saying it to himself. Debbie. Debbie Aldridge.
Jamie tried to cry. He tried to push the tears out of his eyes but none came. After a while he stood up and started to walk back to the house.
***
The sun was going down and both doors were in and functioning perfectly. They’d even gotten started on a couple of the windows.
“Beer time,” Garvey smiled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “See ya’ll down there.”
“We’ll see ya’,” Harry said.
Garvey hopped on his bike and revved the engine. Shots of gravel flew up behind him as he motored off. Harry and Jamie climbed in the pick-up.
“What’s the name a’ that girl?” Jamie asked, looking away from Harry.
“Which one?” Harry said.
“The one…the one that Sharon wants me to meet. Tryin’ to set me up with, y’know?”
“Oh. Uhh…Tanya. It’s Tanya I think.”
“Well maybe we can all meet up soon.”
“Yeah? When would you wanna’…”
“I dunno, y’know. Whenever. Sometime soon. Like tomorrow night maybe.”
“I’ll talk to Sharon about it, sure. You wanna’ go to the Longhorn’s?”
“What is it with you and that fuckin’ Longhorn’s?”
“I like the place, Jamie. They got a good ribeye.”
“Place is overrated.”
“Beats the hell outta’ Friendly’s. Don’t ya’ think?” Harry paused for a moment. He tugged at the skin around his adam’s apple. “Although I like those fried clam strips they got there at Friendly’s.”
“Hey Harry,” Jamie said, turning to face him.
“Yeah?” Harry answered. He couldn’t remember the last time Jamie called him by his name.
“Don’t make it a big deal. The whole thing. The goin’ out. Just…make it seem like, y’know…You three are goin’ out…You, Sharon, and this girl and…you just invited me along at the last minute.”
“Sure, Jamie.”
“I just don’t wanna’ turn it into some big thing.”
“I understand. We’ll keep it a casual kinda’ thing.”
“Just…not even that though. Don’t even call it casual. Just…like it happens to happen. Nothing prepared, y’know what I mean?”
“Well…they might take reservations over at that Longhorn’s if we do it tomorrow. It’s Friday night after all.”
“Jesus Christ. Alright whatever. I just don’t want it to be some set-up thing. A double-date or whatever.”
“Alright, Jamie. I understand. Hey we did good today.”
“How’re those knees a’ yers?”
“Worth about as much as a limp dick in a whorehouse.”
Jamie chuckled and lit a cigarette. This time he rolled down the window.
***
The following evening, Jamie took the bus to the Mountain Hill Mall in Deansboro. He insisted Harry not pick him up for fear that they might have picked Tanya up as well. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the backseat with his armpits leaking and his hair disappearing by the minute.
The final decision to meet them for dinner had been plowed over dozens of times. He contemplated shaving. Changed into at least four outfits. He consulted Sarge, who laid on the floor and cocked his head to the side as Jamie asked him, “whaddayou think?” Sarge was a bulldog with some yellow lab and hound in him. He often seemed confused.
There were plenty of cigarettes, but Jamie pledged to himself that he wouldn’t drink. He knew if he went at it too hard he’d never leave. Or if he did leave, he’d be a wreck at the dinner. He finally settled on the cleanest pair of blue jeans he had, a decent looking dark blue button-down shirt from TJ Maxx, and an old pair of simple black Tony Lama cowboy boots his mother had gotten him when he turned 30. He’d only worn them once before and that was to try them on.
He looked good, he guessed. As good as he was ever gonna’ look. Then he quickly realized that the way he looked was an attempt. An attempt to get dressed up. He didn’t look like himself. He looked like a teacher or a banker or a guy working at TJ Maxx. Some kind of owner of something. He looked down at the cowboy boots.
“God, you fuckin’ idiot!” he shouted. Sarge’s ears arched back but his position on the floor didn’t change. Maybe he farted.
Jamie started to unbutton his shirt. He caught a glance at the alarm clock next to his bed and realized he didn’t have time to change again. It was 6:28. He had to meet them at 7. And the bus took its time.
***
The Longhorn Steakhouse was one of the nicer restaurants throughout the area. There was a hostess that greeted you at the door, a full bar with three big screen plasma TV’s, and free in-shell peanuts at every table. The menu listed everything from t-bones to ribeyes to filet mignon to burgers. Swordfish. Tuna. Garlic and lemon chicken. Linguine with a creamy shrimp sauce. Baked potatoes.
Jamie finished a cigarette in the parking lot. He dug a pack of Doublemint out from his jeans, coiled up a piece and tossed in his mouth. Butterflies were crashing into each other in his stomach. Jamie looked out across the horizon. The sky was on fire with the sunset.
He eased his way through the entrance of the Longhorn where he was met by a petite girl of about seventeen. She had strawberry blonde hair and big blinking brown eyes.
“Hi sir,” she said. “Did you have a reservation?”
The place was packed. Jamie couldn’t really see into the dining room but he could hear a cacophony of voices talking, laughing, eating, slurping. He felt like he was gonna’ puke.
“No,” he swallowed. “But I’m…I’m meeting some people.”
“Okay. Was there a name for that party? They might already be here.”
“Uh…Try Harry. Harry Oaks.”
The girl glanced down at a clipboard in front of her.
“Yes. Oaks. Party of four. They haven’t arrived yet. If you’d like to have a seat at the bar while you wait for them…”
“I’m sorry, but what time is it?” Jamie asked her.
“It’s ten after seven. So I guess they’re running a little late.”
Jamie gnashed his teeth together and took a deep breath. “Okay…I’ll be at the bar,” he said.
The bartender was a kid in his late 20’s. He was tall with pale pock-marked skin and curly hair. His smile showed a gap in his two front teeth.
“How’s it goin’?” he said to Jamie.
Jamie slid into a seat flanked by two empty ones. He didn’t answer the kid.
“What can I get ya’?” the bartender asked.
“Just…a coke please.”
“You got it.”
Jamie looked up at one of the big TV’s. It was basketball. NBA basketball. He pretended to be interested. He’d played some ball in high school. That felt like a million years ago. The bartender returned with his Coke. Jamie took out some money.
“It’s two,” the kid said.
Jamie put three on the bar. He took a sip of the Coke. It was some of the best shit he’d ever tasted in his life.
“This is a really good fuckin’ Coke,” he felt obliged to say.
“Sometimes all you really want is a Coke,” the bartender said.
Jamie nodded. The bartender walked off. Then Jamie thought about that. It was right. Sometimes all you did want was a Coke. He took another sip. It tasted even better. He eased back into the barstool.
“Hey Jamie.”
It was Harry’s voice. Jamie’s heart sunk into his feet.
“Sorry we’re late.”
Harry again. This time Jamie craned his neck toward the sound of the voice. There were three of them there. Harry. His wife Sharon. And another woman. A tall woman with long dirty-blond hair flowing across her shoulders and down her back. She was a beautiful woman. Jamie knew that like he knew how to use a sabre saw. He was happy he wore his hat but he wondered if he’d have to take it off when they sat down to eat. He elected not to. No matter what.
“Hi Jamie,” Sharon said. “I’d like you to meet my friend Tanya.”
Jamie looked at Sharon. Then he looked at Tanya. There she was. Looking at him. She had green eyes. Jamie had never seen green eyes before.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie,” Tanya offered.
“Nice to meet – nice to meet you too,” Jamie stuttered.
“They say our table is ready,” Harry said, glancing at the beers on tap. “So maybe we’ll just sit then.”
“Sounds good,” Sharon said.
The foursome made there way over to the dining room. Tanya stole a glance at Jamie’s feet.
“I like your boots,” she said to him.
Jamie froze for a moment. He peered down quickly and then looked back up at her.
“Thanks,” he said.
Tanya was wearing a handmade summer dress, cream colored with blue and yellow flowers everywhere. It was hanging over her bare shoulders. Her hair was falling over everything. She was almost as tall as him. She had a thin scar running across her neck. The wrinkles in her forehead had become permanent.
“I like your dress – that dress,” Jamie said.
“Thanks for sayin’ so,” Tanya smiled.
She walked in front of him toward the table. Jamie’s stomach gurgled. He exhaled.
It was a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Sharon and Harry eased in next to each other. Tanya took the inside of her row. Jamie sat next to her, mindful of leaving a little room between them. He could feel a drop of sweat trickle down the inside of his arm. No matter how much deodorant he used, he always seemed to penetrate it.
His hat was on. He was in his seat.
A waitress came by with four menus. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was a splitting image of the hostess. Right down to the cloud white teeth.
“How’s everyone doin’ tonight?” she smiled.
“Just fine,” Harry offered.
“Great. My name’s Abby and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I start you all out with something to drink?”
Harry spoke first. “I’d like a beer. Coors Light if you’ve got it.”
“Sure do,” Abby said.
“I’ll have a Coors Light too,” Sharon said. She glanced over at Tanya.
“I’ll have a Sauza Silver on the rocks with a couple a’ limes.”
Jamie felt his throat swell and go dry. He was afraid. He heard a voice inside of him ask his mother if he could have one beer. Before she could answer Abby said:
“And how ‘bout for you, sir?”
Jamie felt as though a searchlight had exploded upon him. He even winced. He didn’t wanna’ be there and he didn’t wanna’ be anywhere else.
“I’ll have a Coke,” he said.
“Just a Coke for you? No problem.” Abby scratched it all into a pad. Then she was gone.
An hour long minute passed before anyone said anything. Jamie was grateful Harry chose not to comment on the Coke.
“So how’s that house going, Jamie?” Sharon asked.
“House?” Jamie asked. He didn’t expect to be talking.
“The one you and Harry are working on. The doors and windows and all that.”
Tanya was looking at Jamie. He suddenly wondered how long it’d been since he’d q-tipped his ears.
“It’s goin’ okay,” he said. “The house’s got a bit of a lean to it so…we’re havin’ deal with that I guess. But it’s...goin’ okay.”
“How long have you and Harry been working together?” Tanya asked him.
“Well…” Jamie started. He glanced at Harry. Harry was throwing a bit of a cockeyed grin at him. Jamie frowned at him. The two women picked up on it. Everyone giggled. Even Jamie who felt real good right then. He’d known Harry a long time. Harry was like his funny little uncle.
“I’ve known Harry a long time,” Jamie said. “He’s like my funny little uncle.”
That brought about more laughs from the table. Jamie didn’t know why and he didn’t care. The lady, Tanya, the one sitting next to him, had a nice laugh. It had a gentle snort to it. Her teeth were a yellow-brown, the product of too many filterless years. It was honest, the whole thing. Jamie took his hat off.
“I learned how to fix things. Cars, houses, whatever when I was a kid. And Harry’s known me since I was born. Early as I can remember he started hiring me on to do jobs with him. I guess since I was fifteen or so.”
“He loved to work,” Harry said. “I remember all the other kids from the area’d go down to the lake to swim and mess around all day in the summer. Jamie wanted to work. He’s the one that came to me asking for a job. Remember that, Jamie?”
Jamie could feel Tanya looking at him still. Her chin was resting on the back of her hand. Her eyes were still green. He wanted to put his arm around her. Maybe say something in her ear. Maybe get lucky and make her laugh.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember that, Harry,” Jamie said.
“Jamie comes to me one summer. Comes by the house. You remember this, Shay?” Harry turned to his wife.
“I do,” she said. She was smiling at Jamie. He couldn’t help but blush. But this time he didn’t mind.
“He’s just a scrawny scarecrow of a kid,” Harry continued. “And he wasn’t no fifteen. More like eleven. Maybe even ten.”
“Wow,” Tanya said, widening her eyes at Jamie. “Youngster.”
“I think it was fifteen,” Jamie said.
“It was ten, eleven.” Harry tone was surprisingly firm. “He was fresh as a raindrop. And he knocks on our door and Sharon answers. And he says in this little squeak of a voice, ‘is Harry around?’ And Sharon says sure and he comes inside. And I’m sittin’ there watchin’ Bassmasters or whatever and I’m sittin’ there in my lazy-boy recliner chair, real Godfather like, y’know? Like the Don Corleone, y’know? And he’s just this little crusty-nosed kid. Overalls and all that. And he says, ‘I was hopin’ I could start workin’ for you.’ And I say, ‘ain’t no work right now, son.’ And he says, ‘well when there is, you call me first.” And I say, ‘well why should I call you first?’ And he says, ‘well ‘cause I’m the hardest worker you’re ever gonna’ meet.’ And I say, ‘I don’t know about that. I know some pretty hard workers.’ And he goes, ‘not like me.’ And that’s the thing that stuck right there. ‘Not like me.’ So the next few days I caught a big painting job up in Sheldon County. I took him with me. And one other guy. Three day job, we got it done in two. Been callin’ on him ever since.”
***
They ate their meals and there was more conversation, more laughs. Jamie didn’t want the night to end for fear that he’d never get it back. He was afraid of having to go home, go away from it, and end up thinking about it to death. Analyzing it until it would’ve been better it’d never even happened.
Tanya did some talking. She told the men about where she grew up. Her parents. Her brother in jail for armed robbery. Jamie was able to hear some of it. The rest of the time his nerves clogged his ears, or his eyes made him deaf while they stared at her neck, her eyes, her shoulder, her lips. He even forgot her name a couple of times and though no one knew that but him, he still got red and had to turn away and hit the Coke pint to straighten himself out.
He hadn’t kissed a girl in over a year. The last time he’d gotten laid, he paid cash. No one knew him well enough to say he was a lot like his father. But he knew he was.
Harry bought dinner. Jamie was a little too thrown to put up a fight. In the end he figured it was Harry’s show anyway.
Jamie’d shake Tanya’s hand. Nice to meet you. Okay. Well. See you tomorrow, Harry. And then on the bus. Home and he’d feed Sarge. Let him out in the yard for a while. Drink a beer. Maybe a shot of Kentucky. And go to sleep. Dreaming would be the next big thing.
Out in the parking lot they all exchanged goodbyes. Tanya and Sharon hugged with a see-you-on-Monday. Harry and Jamie didn’t bother shaking hands.
“Pick you up at nine,” Harry said. “Want a ride home?”
“I’ll take the bus,” Jamie said. “Thanks.”
“Suit yerself. Pick you up at nine.”
“What time did ya’ say?”
“Nine, wise ass.”
“Better make it nine.”
Harry scooped his arm around Sharon’s waist. They walked off together like that.
Jamie lit a cigarette like it was winning scratch-ticket. He watched Tanya reach into her handbag, find a Marlboro Medium, and do the same.
“It was nice meeting you, Jamie,” Tanya offered.
“Yeah,” Jamie stuttered. “You too.”
There was half a moon in the long smoke-blue sky. Stars were joining in. Jamie started counting them.
“Here’s my phone number,” Tanya said, writing it on a piece of scrap paper from her purse. “Call me sometime. There’s a pretty good bluegrass band coming to the Red Hen next Friday. Do you like music?”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said. He didn’t know what the question was. But he had her phone number in his hand.
“Well use that number,” Tanya said. And she walked off. Jamie watched her do that. He knew he’d never forget it. That walking off. At night. Early summer. In the parking lot of the Lonestar Steakhouse.
***
Weeks stole away. The bluegrass band must’ve played. Maybe Tanya went but she didn’t go with Jamie. He worked side-by-side with Harry. Finished the Adamsville house. Finished another one up in LaGrange. Started another one in Adamsville. Masonry. Jamie hated cement. But not as much as he hated himself for not calling Tanya. The girl and the woman and the one who told him to call her. The number she gave him was in his wallet. It’d been there since the parking lot.
“Did ya’ give Tanya a call?” Harry asked.
“Not yet,” Jamie grumbled. “Off my ass about it, huh?”
“You’re gonna’ regret not callin’ her. She liked ya’. It don’t need to be a rainbow to glow, y’know.”
Jamie chuckled. “Fuck’s that mean?”
“Means beggars can’t be choosers. A sardine’s still a fish. A dent in the fender don’t mean the engine’s shot.”
“Jesus Christ. Fuckin’ Socrates over here. When’s lunch, oh wise one?”
“When you sprout a few hairs on those nuts a’ yers.”
“Hey,” Jamie snapped. “Back off. I’ll call ‘er if I wanna’ call ‘er.”
“You wanna’ call ‘er. That ain’t the problem.”
Jamie spit in the gravel. His face was red and wet from the May heat. He slipped a cigarette between his frowning lips. He didn’t know how to last with someone. That was the problem. He didn’t know how to make it regular. A regular thing. Something that would lead to living. Living with. He wiped his forehead. He hated the summer. It rubbed everything in.
***
They were in front of Jamie’s house. In Harry’s truck.
“See you tomorrow,” Harry said.
Jamie slammed the shotgun door and walked across his yard. The crickets were at it early. Sarge was barking from inside. Jamie opened the door and Sarge came bopping towards him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a log of pepperoni. Jamie the spot behind his ear a good scratch. He pulled the soaked shirt off his body and tossed it on the couch. The hairs on his chest and stomach and shoulders were matted down and tangled. He was into a week and half’s worth of beard. He had some money saved up now. He contemplated buying a new gun.
He saw his answering machine flashing its red eye at him. He pressed play and a dry digital voice told him he had “one new message.”
“Hi Jamie. This is Doctor Eastman calling. If you could come by the hospital at your earliest convenience. I’m…afraid we have some bad news. Your mother took a turn for the worse this afternoon. We tried to stabilize her but…she suffered a full cardiac arrest at about a quarter after four. I’m very sorry. I’ll go into the details a little further when you arrive here. Again I’m…I’m terribly sorry, Jamie. I’ll look forward to seeing you here as soon as you can get by.”
That was it and then the voice was back with “no more messages.” Jamie drew a long breath in and let it slowly fall through his nose. A wave of fatigue wandered through him like a church bell. He was in the kitchen and there was a small kitchen table with a couple of chairs and he let his body fall into one of the chairs. He wasn’t sad then. No sadder than his whole life. But he could feel his comfort zone cracking. It was the one he’d built up as his mother lay in the hospital. Getting ready to die. But still alive with that. And Jamie wouldn’t have the hospital anymore. He wouldn’t have the routine or the easy feelings that came with it.
He knew he was gonna’ drink and drink. At least tonight. He was gonna’ drink a river.
***
At the hospital Doctor Eastman used terms like defibrillation and endotracheal tube. And how surgery wasn’t an option given the advanced stages of the cancer and and and. Jamie sat there listening to the summer rain kiss the windows of the doctor’s office. There were framed documents on the walls. Family photos on his desk. He was Jamie’s age. Combed blond hair. Strong, blue-grey eyes. Jamie decided he was the smartest man he’d ever met. He thought it’d do them both good to give the doctor that. The doctor with the bad news.
“As I said on the phone, Jamie, I’m terribly sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.”
Jamie wondered how he knew that. He flinched away the wondering if it was true.
“What happens now?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Well,” Doctor Eastman began, “you can contact the funeral home. Or I can do it for you if you like. They’ll then come and pick the body up. After that, you’ll work out the arrangements for the funeral with them directly. Have you prepared for any of this…?”
“No,” Jamie said. He was solemn and exhausted. “Where’s the funeral home?”
“Well there’s a few in town. My uncle died a couple of years ago and I can give you the number of the folks who took care of him.”
Folks who took care. Jamie needed a drink like an eye needed a lid.
“I guess I’ll work it out tomorrow if it’s okay. I’ll give you a call tomorrow if it’s okay.”
The doctor looked at Jamie for a moment. He saw the nicotine on his skin and on his neck and in his cheeks.
“That’s fine,” Eastman said. He extended a hand to Jamie. Jamie looked at it a moment. Then he rose from his seat and shook it. It was a limp hand and Jamie wanted to puke. He wanted to puke and he hadn’t even had a drop yet.
“Appreciate it,” Jamie muttered. He wasn’t sure why he said anything it all. He’d never see the doctor again. Maybe at the Price Chopper. And the doctor would give him the same sorry look. Maybe he’d have his kids with him.
***
Jamie caught a Greyhound instead of the county bus. It took him across the state line and dropped him at a station in a town called Story Lake. He’d never heard of the town and he’d never been in the state before.
It was growing darker by the minute. He’d bought two packs of cigarettes and a fifth of Jack Daniels before the bus. The fifth was almost kicked by the time he got off. He tore into the cigarettes as he stood on the station platform. He could make out a small restaurant across the road. There were some people inside and he wondered if it had a bar. He smoked back-to-back squares there under the lights of the station. He heard a couple a few yards away from him talking about a movie. He didn’t get it. She told him that was the point.
Jamie thought about his brother for a moment. Out there in Northern California. Jamie knew there’d been some crystal meth in that tale. The last time he’d seen his brother one of his front teeth was missing and he had bruises all over his arms. Part of Jamie was grateful his brother was far away.
He finished one, flipped it away, lit another.
***
The restaurant had a bar and the bar had a seat for Jamie. The TV was on with no sound. A couple of locals were sitting there as well, all of them watching the screen dance in silence. There were some occupied tables. People were eating beef and chicken and pork and maybe some shrimp. Nobody was talking really. A lot of the men were older and wore baseball hats over their white hair, their grey hair. One of the baseball hats said “NAVY” on it. The man wearing it had downcast eyes and a scar on his chin. Jamie took him for seventy-five. The man was eating a chicken breast with some rice nearby it. He wore khaki pants and sneakers with velcro on them. His wife was a small woman with great hair tugged back over her scalp. She wore oversized glasses with thick lenses and had a plate of fettuccine alfredo in front of her. They ate in silence.
And Jamie ordered a double Jack Daniels neat. He ordered a bottle of Heineken behind it. He asked for an ashtray and the bartender, a man in his fifties with brown hair and a lisp, gave it to him. Jamie lit a cigarette.
Jamie hated the hospital. Everything pale and clean. Everyone either terribly concerned or exhausted. Too fast. Too slow. No news. Bad news. Waiting. Waiting, waiting. Leaving.
But, like most other things, Jamie had accepted it as life. He didn’t believe in complaining, just bitching, but the hospital seemed like too big a deal to bitch about. People lost real things there. Jamie was used to bitching about the local police or the price of gas. The hospital made those hardships seem like cake.
His mother was lying there sleeping. She could’ve been dead for all Jamie knew. He was all too used to seeing her stretched out between the metal rails, eyes closed, looking starched as the shirt he wore to his prom. That shirt’d ended up covered in dirt and blood from a fight that night. Jamie still had a scar over his eye from a set of brass knuckles that blind-sided him. His hand brushed over the dented flesh and he let out a rumbling sigh. Medical machines whirred and beeped. Lights flashed. Jamie could hear voices in the hallway but could make out no words.
His mother was being overtaken by the lung cancer that three packs a day for over thirty years had made inevitable. Her face was a pinkish grey prune, wrinkled as linen. Her lips had vanished and she had no teeth left. She looked like a dying monster. Jamie had seen pictures of her in her 20’s, her skin soft, her smile like a shooting star. It was as though that girl had been slowly erased, feature by feature. She’d been all he had for most of his life. Now he was all she had. And soon she’d be gone. And Jamie wouldn’t have to come to the hospital anymore. And the loneliness that’d swallowed him most of his life would finally shit him out. He was terrified and furious.
He was thirty-two years old. He was going bald. He was a couple inches over six-feet. A ruggedly handsome man with piercing ice-blue eyes and tobacco-stained teeth. He cursed. His dog, Sarge, was old and faithful and dumb. Jamie had a goatee and a tattoo on his arm – a skull with a knife and a serpent through it. The court’d taken his driver’s license away from him for a DUI a year and change ago. He loved his mother. His real father had died when he was nine years old. None of the other men came close. None tried.
There was a clock on the wall and Jamie drew his eyes to it. It was a little after eight in the morning. And that meant Jamie had to go to work.
He touched his mother’s hand. Nothing about her changed. Nothing much changed about him either. His younger brother lived in Northern California and Jamie hadn’t spoken to him in two and a half years. He wondered how he’d take the news when it came down. He hated that he’d have to be the one to call. He’d have to call a few people. They’d all care for a little while.
***
Jamie took the bus to the parking lot of Archer’s Steak & Eggs in the middle of Main Street. It was there that Harry, his friend and co-worker, picked him up. Harry was about five foot five and his big beer-belly pushed out over his waist and hid his belt-buckle, which read “BOSSMAN” in tarnished brass. Harry had long hair combed back and wore a black leather biker vest over a Harley-Davidson T-shirt. He had kind eyes and a goofy grin. He was somewhere in the first half of his fifties. His bum knees made him seem older and his personality made him seem younger.
Jamie hopped into the shotgun seat of Harry’s pick-up. He slammed the door and Harry threw the shifter into drive. He handed Jamie a cup of coffee. Jamie took it from him without saying thanks, rolled the window down and lit a Lucky Strike. Harry began coughing immediately. He waved his hand in front of his face and rolled his own window down.
“C’mon,” Jamie said. “Jesus.”
“It’s only two months I been quit, Jamie. Show some sensitivity.”
Jamie blew a waft of smoke in Harry’s general direction. Harry gagged and Jamie chuckled. The sun threw a blinding shot against the windshield and Jamie’s eyes narrowed. He looked out the window at a lone kid riding his bike down a hillside. He took the kid for nine or ten. He could feel his heart beating in his chest.
“Did you think about what I told you about this Tanya?” he heard Harry say.
“What?” Jamie said, turning to him.
“I’m tellin’ ya’ that, y’know, Sharon says there’s this new girl at the vet’s office and her name’s Tanya. And she says to me that you should meet her. ‘Parently she’s a pretty gal. Smart. Y’know, but pretty. And Sharon, she’s been asking about ya’. Yer mom and all with that. She’d like to see you meet a nice girl, she says to me.”
Jamie scratched at his cheek and took a drag. “We’ll see,” he said.
“Yeah, ‘cause we could all go out and go to the Longhorn’s or something. Get a dinner and some beers.”
“Maybe. Whaddo we got today?”
“Doors and windows. Over in Adamsville. Garvey’s gonna’ meet us there. We’ll get them doors in today, front and back. Couple days then on the windows.”
“All the materials in?”
“Yeah, already delivered from what I know. Hopefully it’s the right shit this time.”
“That’d be nice.”
“How is yer mom, Jamie?”
“She’s alright.”
Harry was looking over at Jamie. Jamie flicked his cigarette out the window and glanced in his mirror in time to see the cherry hit the pavement and break apart.
***
Garvey was waiting for them at the worksite, a single story house with a full-length deck and a modest yard. He was similar to Harry in size but had a long beard that stretched down across his chest. He rode his Sportster everywhere. He had a tattoo of a Mac-10 on his shoulder. The words “Please, Fuck With Me” were inked underneath. He wore cheap wayfarer sunglasses, dirty blue jeans, and an old Bad Company sweatshirt. He was smoking a cigarette and walking in a circle when Harry pulled-up.
“Hey guys,” Garvey coughed. “Hey Jame. What’s new?”
Harry trotted toward Garvey. They shook hands. Jamie moved toward the house. The new doors and windows were leaning up against the wall. Jamie took his jacket off and tossed it on the railing of the deck. He lit another cigarette and stood one of the new doors up.
“Home Depot?” he asked Harry.
“Yeah. How’s it look?”
“Looks fine,” Jamie said.
“I’ll grab the gear,” Garvey said, heading toward Harry’s pick-up.
“This house’s got a list, huh?” Jamie said.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “It was moved from Cormac County I think. Back in the fifties. That’s what happens when you put it on a hill.”
“Hope you got plenty of shingles then,” Jamie said.
“We should be good. And I gotta’ get started on a rock wall at the edge of the property line today.”
“I’ll leave that to you,” Jamie grinned.
“Of course you will,” Harry said.
Garvey returned with crowbars, hammers, and two power drills.
“Charge up them spare batteries, Garvey,” Harry said.
***
Within the first three hours the men had removed both old doors and nearly completed the installation of the new ones. The first one had been relatively painless. The second one required a lot of trimming and Jamie had to reposition it in the frame twice to get the reveal exactly how he wanted it. He was a perfectionist, and that’s why Harry hired him on for jobs. As much as he bellyached about this or that, he never left something half-assed.
“Hey Jamie,” Garvey said, as he finished drilling in a new doorknob.
“What?” Jamie said, checking the open and close on the first door.
“Whaddayou call a guy who accidentally chops off his buddy’s hand with an axe?”
“I dunno.”
“An axe-hole.”
Garvey laughed and Jamie grinned, more at the way it sounded than how funny it actually was. Sometimes Jamie felt really young around the guys and sometimes he felt really old.
Harry came waddling on up to the house, his face glistening with sweat.
“That’s lunch, guys. And that goddamn wall is kickin’ my ass today.”
“I got my sandwich, Harry,” Garvey said. Garvey would buy a roast beef sandwich from the local gas station every morning, stick it on his dashboard, and let it sit in the sun till lunchtime. About that time the cheese was all melted and the mayonnaise had actually been infused into the meat.
“You wanna’ go into town and get something, Jamie?” Harry asked.
“Nah,” Jamie answered. “Just bring me back something. Turkey sandwich or whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit then,” Harry said, getting into the truck and pulling out.
“You want half a’ my sandwich, Jame?” Garvey said.
“Been roastin’ in the heat all mornin’ hasn’t it?” Jamie grimaced.
“Yeah. ‘S good that way.”
“It’s all yers,” Jamie said. He lit a cigarette. “I’m gonna’ walk around a bit.”
***
The property was surrounded by woods. Jamie pushed his way through them. He could hear chickadees and thrushes singing to each other. When he was a boy he’d grab his Swiss Army knife, a canteen, and a pair of plastic binoculars and go off into the woods on his own. It honed his sense of direction and sense of solitude. He’d talk to himself out there, pretend he was a soldier separated from his battalion. It made him feel less lonesome but more alone; for every story and experience he carved out in his imagination, he felt more and more detached from the other kids at school. He never got bullied because he had a short temper and would react violently if teased. But he never went out of his way to make friends either. Soon the Swiss Army Knife turned into a gun. The canteen turned into the occasional bottle. He liked to go hunting and fishing. Occasionally he’d find himself with a woman, but never for long enough to get truly open. The women who saw him as a project would break themselves trying to figure him. The women who saw him as a fuck-up would use him for their own lonely reasons. The only one who’d ever told him she loved him was his mother. And for a while he even rebelled against that.
His father’d died in a car wreck. On a fifth of Alexei, he’d skipped the median and been smashed to pieces by a semi. His body’d been virtually obliterated. There’d been pieces of him as far as forty yards from the crash.
Jamie knew he’d loved his father but he couldn’t remember why.
He found himself in a clearing and sat down on a long flat rock. The sun was glowing through the leaves and limbs and Jamie laid on his back. He heard the wind dance across the trees. His mother’s name was Debbie. He’d never really thought of her name much. But now he started saying it to himself. Debbie. Debbie Aldridge.
Jamie tried to cry. He tried to push the tears out of his eyes but none came. After a while he stood up and started to walk back to the house.
***
The sun was going down and both doors were in and functioning perfectly. They’d even gotten started on a couple of the windows.
“Beer time,” Garvey smiled, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “See ya’ll down there.”
“We’ll see ya’,” Harry said.
Garvey hopped on his bike and revved the engine. Shots of gravel flew up behind him as he motored off. Harry and Jamie climbed in the pick-up.
“What’s the name a’ that girl?” Jamie asked, looking away from Harry.
“Which one?” Harry said.
“The one…the one that Sharon wants me to meet. Tryin’ to set me up with, y’know?”
“Oh. Uhh…Tanya. It’s Tanya I think.”
“Well maybe we can all meet up soon.”
“Yeah? When would you wanna’…”
“I dunno, y’know. Whenever. Sometime soon. Like tomorrow night maybe.”
“I’ll talk to Sharon about it, sure. You wanna’ go to the Longhorn’s?”
“What is it with you and that fuckin’ Longhorn’s?”
“I like the place, Jamie. They got a good ribeye.”
“Place is overrated.”
“Beats the hell outta’ Friendly’s. Don’t ya’ think?” Harry paused for a moment. He tugged at the skin around his adam’s apple. “Although I like those fried clam strips they got there at Friendly’s.”
“Hey Harry,” Jamie said, turning to face him.
“Yeah?” Harry answered. He couldn’t remember the last time Jamie called him by his name.
“Don’t make it a big deal. The whole thing. The goin’ out. Just…make it seem like, y’know…You three are goin’ out…You, Sharon, and this girl and…you just invited me along at the last minute.”
“Sure, Jamie.”
“I just don’t wanna’ turn it into some big thing.”
“I understand. We’ll keep it a casual kinda’ thing.”
“Just…not even that though. Don’t even call it casual. Just…like it happens to happen. Nothing prepared, y’know what I mean?”
“Well…they might take reservations over at that Longhorn’s if we do it tomorrow. It’s Friday night after all.”
“Jesus Christ. Alright whatever. I just don’t want it to be some set-up thing. A double-date or whatever.”
“Alright, Jamie. I understand. Hey we did good today.”
“How’re those knees a’ yers?”
“Worth about as much as a limp dick in a whorehouse.”
Jamie chuckled and lit a cigarette. This time he rolled down the window.
***
The following evening, Jamie took the bus to the Mountain Hill Mall in Deansboro. He insisted Harry not pick him up for fear that they might have picked Tanya up as well. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the backseat with his armpits leaking and his hair disappearing by the minute.
The final decision to meet them for dinner had been plowed over dozens of times. He contemplated shaving. Changed into at least four outfits. He consulted Sarge, who laid on the floor and cocked his head to the side as Jamie asked him, “whaddayou think?” Sarge was a bulldog with some yellow lab and hound in him. He often seemed confused.
There were plenty of cigarettes, but Jamie pledged to himself that he wouldn’t drink. He knew if he went at it too hard he’d never leave. Or if he did leave, he’d be a wreck at the dinner. He finally settled on the cleanest pair of blue jeans he had, a decent looking dark blue button-down shirt from TJ Maxx, and an old pair of simple black Tony Lama cowboy boots his mother had gotten him when he turned 30. He’d only worn them once before and that was to try them on.
He looked good, he guessed. As good as he was ever gonna’ look. Then he quickly realized that the way he looked was an attempt. An attempt to get dressed up. He didn’t look like himself. He looked like a teacher or a banker or a guy working at TJ Maxx. Some kind of owner of something. He looked down at the cowboy boots.
“God, you fuckin’ idiot!” he shouted. Sarge’s ears arched back but his position on the floor didn’t change. Maybe he farted.
Jamie started to unbutton his shirt. He caught a glance at the alarm clock next to his bed and realized he didn’t have time to change again. It was 6:28. He had to meet them at 7. And the bus took its time.
***
The Longhorn Steakhouse was one of the nicer restaurants throughout the area. There was a hostess that greeted you at the door, a full bar with three big screen plasma TV’s, and free in-shell peanuts at every table. The menu listed everything from t-bones to ribeyes to filet mignon to burgers. Swordfish. Tuna. Garlic and lemon chicken. Linguine with a creamy shrimp sauce. Baked potatoes.
Jamie finished a cigarette in the parking lot. He dug a pack of Doublemint out from his jeans, coiled up a piece and tossed in his mouth. Butterflies were crashing into each other in his stomach. Jamie looked out across the horizon. The sky was on fire with the sunset.
He eased his way through the entrance of the Longhorn where he was met by a petite girl of about seventeen. She had strawberry blonde hair and big blinking brown eyes.
“Hi sir,” she said. “Did you have a reservation?”
The place was packed. Jamie couldn’t really see into the dining room but he could hear a cacophony of voices talking, laughing, eating, slurping. He felt like he was gonna’ puke.
“No,” he swallowed. “But I’m…I’m meeting some people.”
“Okay. Was there a name for that party? They might already be here.”
“Uh…Try Harry. Harry Oaks.”
The girl glanced down at a clipboard in front of her.
“Yes. Oaks. Party of four. They haven’t arrived yet. If you’d like to have a seat at the bar while you wait for them…”
“I’m sorry, but what time is it?” Jamie asked her.
“It’s ten after seven. So I guess they’re running a little late.”
Jamie gnashed his teeth together and took a deep breath. “Okay…I’ll be at the bar,” he said.
The bartender was a kid in his late 20’s. He was tall with pale pock-marked skin and curly hair. His smile showed a gap in his two front teeth.
“How’s it goin’?” he said to Jamie.
Jamie slid into a seat flanked by two empty ones. He didn’t answer the kid.
“What can I get ya’?” the bartender asked.
“Just…a coke please.”
“You got it.”
Jamie looked up at one of the big TV’s. It was basketball. NBA basketball. He pretended to be interested. He’d played some ball in high school. That felt like a million years ago. The bartender returned with his Coke. Jamie took out some money.
“It’s two,” the kid said.
Jamie put three on the bar. He took a sip of the Coke. It was some of the best shit he’d ever tasted in his life.
“This is a really good fuckin’ Coke,” he felt obliged to say.
“Sometimes all you really want is a Coke,” the bartender said.
Jamie nodded. The bartender walked off. Then Jamie thought about that. It was right. Sometimes all you did want was a Coke. He took another sip. It tasted even better. He eased back into the barstool.
“Hey Jamie.”
It was Harry’s voice. Jamie’s heart sunk into his feet.
“Sorry we’re late.”
Harry again. This time Jamie craned his neck toward the sound of the voice. There were three of them there. Harry. His wife Sharon. And another woman. A tall woman with long dirty-blond hair flowing across her shoulders and down her back. She was a beautiful woman. Jamie knew that like he knew how to use a sabre saw. He was happy he wore his hat but he wondered if he’d have to take it off when they sat down to eat. He elected not to. No matter what.
“Hi Jamie,” Sharon said. “I’d like you to meet my friend Tanya.”
Jamie looked at Sharon. Then he looked at Tanya. There she was. Looking at him. She had green eyes. Jamie had never seen green eyes before.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie,” Tanya offered.
“Nice to meet – nice to meet you too,” Jamie stuttered.
“They say our table is ready,” Harry said, glancing at the beers on tap. “So maybe we’ll just sit then.”
“Sounds good,” Sharon said.
The foursome made there way over to the dining room. Tanya stole a glance at Jamie’s feet.
“I like your boots,” she said to him.
Jamie froze for a moment. He peered down quickly and then looked back up at her.
“Thanks,” he said.
Tanya was wearing a handmade summer dress, cream colored with blue and yellow flowers everywhere. It was hanging over her bare shoulders. Her hair was falling over everything. She was almost as tall as him. She had a thin scar running across her neck. The wrinkles in her forehead had become permanent.
“I like your dress – that dress,” Jamie said.
“Thanks for sayin’ so,” Tanya smiled.
She walked in front of him toward the table. Jamie’s stomach gurgled. He exhaled.
It was a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Sharon and Harry eased in next to each other. Tanya took the inside of her row. Jamie sat next to her, mindful of leaving a little room between them. He could feel a drop of sweat trickle down the inside of his arm. No matter how much deodorant he used, he always seemed to penetrate it.
His hat was on. He was in his seat.
A waitress came by with four menus. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was a splitting image of the hostess. Right down to the cloud white teeth.
“How’s everyone doin’ tonight?” she smiled.
“Just fine,” Harry offered.
“Great. My name’s Abby and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I start you all out with something to drink?”
Harry spoke first. “I’d like a beer. Coors Light if you’ve got it.”
“Sure do,” Abby said.
“I’ll have a Coors Light too,” Sharon said. She glanced over at Tanya.
“I’ll have a Sauza Silver on the rocks with a couple a’ limes.”
Jamie felt his throat swell and go dry. He was afraid. He heard a voice inside of him ask his mother if he could have one beer. Before she could answer Abby said:
“And how ‘bout for you, sir?”
Jamie felt as though a searchlight had exploded upon him. He even winced. He didn’t wanna’ be there and he didn’t wanna’ be anywhere else.
“I’ll have a Coke,” he said.
“Just a Coke for you? No problem.” Abby scratched it all into a pad. Then she was gone.
An hour long minute passed before anyone said anything. Jamie was grateful Harry chose not to comment on the Coke.
“So how’s that house going, Jamie?” Sharon asked.
“House?” Jamie asked. He didn’t expect to be talking.
“The one you and Harry are working on. The doors and windows and all that.”
Tanya was looking at Jamie. He suddenly wondered how long it’d been since he’d q-tipped his ears.
“It’s goin’ okay,” he said. “The house’s got a bit of a lean to it so…we’re havin’ deal with that I guess. But it’s...goin’ okay.”
“How long have you and Harry been working together?” Tanya asked him.
“Well…” Jamie started. He glanced at Harry. Harry was throwing a bit of a cockeyed grin at him. Jamie frowned at him. The two women picked up on it. Everyone giggled. Even Jamie who felt real good right then. He’d known Harry a long time. Harry was like his funny little uncle.
“I’ve known Harry a long time,” Jamie said. “He’s like my funny little uncle.”
That brought about more laughs from the table. Jamie didn’t know why and he didn’t care. The lady, Tanya, the one sitting next to him, had a nice laugh. It had a gentle snort to it. Her teeth were a yellow-brown, the product of too many filterless years. It was honest, the whole thing. Jamie took his hat off.
“I learned how to fix things. Cars, houses, whatever when I was a kid. And Harry’s known me since I was born. Early as I can remember he started hiring me on to do jobs with him. I guess since I was fifteen or so.”
“He loved to work,” Harry said. “I remember all the other kids from the area’d go down to the lake to swim and mess around all day in the summer. Jamie wanted to work. He’s the one that came to me asking for a job. Remember that, Jamie?”
Jamie could feel Tanya looking at him still. Her chin was resting on the back of her hand. Her eyes were still green. He wanted to put his arm around her. Maybe say something in her ear. Maybe get lucky and make her laugh.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember that, Harry,” Jamie said.
“Jamie comes to me one summer. Comes by the house. You remember this, Shay?” Harry turned to his wife.
“I do,” she said. She was smiling at Jamie. He couldn’t help but blush. But this time he didn’t mind.
“He’s just a scrawny scarecrow of a kid,” Harry continued. “And he wasn’t no fifteen. More like eleven. Maybe even ten.”
“Wow,” Tanya said, widening her eyes at Jamie. “Youngster.”
“I think it was fifteen,” Jamie said.
“It was ten, eleven.” Harry tone was surprisingly firm. “He was fresh as a raindrop. And he knocks on our door and Sharon answers. And he says in this little squeak of a voice, ‘is Harry around?’ And Sharon says sure and he comes inside. And I’m sittin’ there watchin’ Bassmasters or whatever and I’m sittin’ there in my lazy-boy recliner chair, real Godfather like, y’know? Like the Don Corleone, y’know? And he’s just this little crusty-nosed kid. Overalls and all that. And he says, ‘I was hopin’ I could start workin’ for you.’ And I say, ‘ain’t no work right now, son.’ And he says, ‘well when there is, you call me first.” And I say, ‘well why should I call you first?’ And he says, ‘well ‘cause I’m the hardest worker you’re ever gonna’ meet.’ And I say, ‘I don’t know about that. I know some pretty hard workers.’ And he goes, ‘not like me.’ And that’s the thing that stuck right there. ‘Not like me.’ So the next few days I caught a big painting job up in Sheldon County. I took him with me. And one other guy. Three day job, we got it done in two. Been callin’ on him ever since.”
***
They ate their meals and there was more conversation, more laughs. Jamie didn’t want the night to end for fear that he’d never get it back. He was afraid of having to go home, go away from it, and end up thinking about it to death. Analyzing it until it would’ve been better it’d never even happened.
Tanya did some talking. She told the men about where she grew up. Her parents. Her brother in jail for armed robbery. Jamie was able to hear some of it. The rest of the time his nerves clogged his ears, or his eyes made him deaf while they stared at her neck, her eyes, her shoulder, her lips. He even forgot her name a couple of times and though no one knew that but him, he still got red and had to turn away and hit the Coke pint to straighten himself out.
He hadn’t kissed a girl in over a year. The last time he’d gotten laid, he paid cash. No one knew him well enough to say he was a lot like his father. But he knew he was.
Harry bought dinner. Jamie was a little too thrown to put up a fight. In the end he figured it was Harry’s show anyway.
Jamie’d shake Tanya’s hand. Nice to meet you. Okay. Well. See you tomorrow, Harry. And then on the bus. Home and he’d feed Sarge. Let him out in the yard for a while. Drink a beer. Maybe a shot of Kentucky. And go to sleep. Dreaming would be the next big thing.
Out in the parking lot they all exchanged goodbyes. Tanya and Sharon hugged with a see-you-on-Monday. Harry and Jamie didn’t bother shaking hands.
“Pick you up at nine,” Harry said. “Want a ride home?”
“I’ll take the bus,” Jamie said. “Thanks.”
“Suit yerself. Pick you up at nine.”
“What time did ya’ say?”
“Nine, wise ass.”
“Better make it nine.”
Harry scooped his arm around Sharon’s waist. They walked off together like that.
Jamie lit a cigarette like it was winning scratch-ticket. He watched Tanya reach into her handbag, find a Marlboro Medium, and do the same.
“It was nice meeting you, Jamie,” Tanya offered.
“Yeah,” Jamie stuttered. “You too.”
There was half a moon in the long smoke-blue sky. Stars were joining in. Jamie started counting them.
“Here’s my phone number,” Tanya said, writing it on a piece of scrap paper from her purse. “Call me sometime. There’s a pretty good bluegrass band coming to the Red Hen next Friday. Do you like music?”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said. He didn’t know what the question was. But he had her phone number in his hand.
“Well use that number,” Tanya said. And she walked off. Jamie watched her do that. He knew he’d never forget it. That walking off. At night. Early summer. In the parking lot of the Lonestar Steakhouse.
***
Weeks stole away. The bluegrass band must’ve played. Maybe Tanya went but she didn’t go with Jamie. He worked side-by-side with Harry. Finished the Adamsville house. Finished another one up in LaGrange. Started another one in Adamsville. Masonry. Jamie hated cement. But not as much as he hated himself for not calling Tanya. The girl and the woman and the one who told him to call her. The number she gave him was in his wallet. It’d been there since the parking lot.
“Did ya’ give Tanya a call?” Harry asked.
“Not yet,” Jamie grumbled. “Off my ass about it, huh?”
“You’re gonna’ regret not callin’ her. She liked ya’. It don’t need to be a rainbow to glow, y’know.”
Jamie chuckled. “Fuck’s that mean?”
“Means beggars can’t be choosers. A sardine’s still a fish. A dent in the fender don’t mean the engine’s shot.”
“Jesus Christ. Fuckin’ Socrates over here. When’s lunch, oh wise one?”
“When you sprout a few hairs on those nuts a’ yers.”
“Hey,” Jamie snapped. “Back off. I’ll call ‘er if I wanna’ call ‘er.”
“You wanna’ call ‘er. That ain’t the problem.”
Jamie spit in the gravel. His face was red and wet from the May heat. He slipped a cigarette between his frowning lips. He didn’t know how to last with someone. That was the problem. He didn’t know how to make it regular. A regular thing. Something that would lead to living. Living with. He wiped his forehead. He hated the summer. It rubbed everything in.
***
They were in front of Jamie’s house. In Harry’s truck.
“See you tomorrow,” Harry said.
Jamie slammed the shotgun door and walked across his yard. The crickets were at it early. Sarge was barking from inside. Jamie opened the door and Sarge came bopping towards him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a log of pepperoni. Jamie the spot behind his ear a good scratch. He pulled the soaked shirt off his body and tossed it on the couch. The hairs on his chest and stomach and shoulders were matted down and tangled. He was into a week and half’s worth of beard. He had some money saved up now. He contemplated buying a new gun.
He saw his answering machine flashing its red eye at him. He pressed play and a dry digital voice told him he had “one new message.”
“Hi Jamie. This is Doctor Eastman calling. If you could come by the hospital at your earliest convenience. I’m…afraid we have some bad news. Your mother took a turn for the worse this afternoon. We tried to stabilize her but…she suffered a full cardiac arrest at about a quarter after four. I’m very sorry. I’ll go into the details a little further when you arrive here. Again I’m…I’m terribly sorry, Jamie. I’ll look forward to seeing you here as soon as you can get by.”
That was it and then the voice was back with “no more messages.” Jamie drew a long breath in and let it slowly fall through his nose. A wave of fatigue wandered through him like a church bell. He was in the kitchen and there was a small kitchen table with a couple of chairs and he let his body fall into one of the chairs. He wasn’t sad then. No sadder than his whole life. But he could feel his comfort zone cracking. It was the one he’d built up as his mother lay in the hospital. Getting ready to die. But still alive with that. And Jamie wouldn’t have the hospital anymore. He wouldn’t have the routine or the easy feelings that came with it.
He knew he was gonna’ drink and drink. At least tonight. He was gonna’ drink a river.
***
At the hospital Doctor Eastman used terms like defibrillation and endotracheal tube. And how surgery wasn’t an option given the advanced stages of the cancer and and and. Jamie sat there listening to the summer rain kiss the windows of the doctor’s office. There were framed documents on the walls. Family photos on his desk. He was Jamie’s age. Combed blond hair. Strong, blue-grey eyes. Jamie decided he was the smartest man he’d ever met. He thought it’d do them both good to give the doctor that. The doctor with the bad news.
“As I said on the phone, Jamie, I’m terribly sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.”
Jamie wondered how he knew that. He flinched away the wondering if it was true.
“What happens now?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Well,” Doctor Eastman began, “you can contact the funeral home. Or I can do it for you if you like. They’ll then come and pick the body up. After that, you’ll work out the arrangements for the funeral with them directly. Have you prepared for any of this…?”
“No,” Jamie said. He was solemn and exhausted. “Where’s the funeral home?”
“Well there’s a few in town. My uncle died a couple of years ago and I can give you the number of the folks who took care of him.”
Folks who took care. Jamie needed a drink like an eye needed a lid.
“I guess I’ll work it out tomorrow if it’s okay. I’ll give you a call tomorrow if it’s okay.”
The doctor looked at Jamie for a moment. He saw the nicotine on his skin and on his neck and in his cheeks.
“That’s fine,” Eastman said. He extended a hand to Jamie. Jamie looked at it a moment. Then he rose from his seat and shook it. It was a limp hand and Jamie wanted to puke. He wanted to puke and he hadn’t even had a drop yet.
“Appreciate it,” Jamie muttered. He wasn’t sure why he said anything it all. He’d never see the doctor again. Maybe at the Price Chopper. And the doctor would give him the same sorry look. Maybe he’d have his kids with him.
***
Jamie caught a Greyhound instead of the county bus. It took him across the state line and dropped him at a station in a town called Story Lake. He’d never heard of the town and he’d never been in the state before.
It was growing darker by the minute. He’d bought two packs of cigarettes and a fifth of Jack Daniels before the bus. The fifth was almost kicked by the time he got off. He tore into the cigarettes as he stood on the station platform. He could make out a small restaurant across the road. There were some people inside and he wondered if it had a bar. He smoked back-to-back squares there under the lights of the station. He heard a couple a few yards away from him talking about a movie. He didn’t get it. She told him that was the point.
Jamie thought about his brother for a moment. Out there in Northern California. Jamie knew there’d been some crystal meth in that tale. The last time he’d seen his brother one of his front teeth was missing and he had bruises all over his arms. Part of Jamie was grateful his brother was far away.
He finished one, flipped it away, lit another.
***
The restaurant had a bar and the bar had a seat for Jamie. The TV was on with no sound. A couple of locals were sitting there as well, all of them watching the screen dance in silence. There were some occupied tables. People were eating beef and chicken and pork and maybe some shrimp. Nobody was talking really. A lot of the men were older and wore baseball hats over their white hair, their grey hair. One of the baseball hats said “NAVY” on it. The man wearing it had downcast eyes and a scar on his chin. Jamie took him for seventy-five. The man was eating a chicken breast with some rice nearby it. He wore khaki pants and sneakers with velcro on them. His wife was a small woman with great hair tugged back over her scalp. She wore oversized glasses with thick lenses and had a plate of fettuccine alfredo in front of her. They ate in silence.
And Jamie ordered a double Jack Daniels neat. He ordered a bottle of Heineken behind it. He asked for an ashtray and the bartender, a man in his fifties with brown hair and a lisp, gave it to him. Jamie lit a cigarette.
He saw his mother on the couch. Smoking. Watching “The Young and the Restless.” Once she cried while watching the show and Jamie cried because she cried.
The double bourbon was gone and Jamie ordered another one. One of the men at the bar took notice of Jamie’s pace but said nothing. He tilted his bottle of Miller Light toward Jamie and smiled. Jamie tilted his Heineken bottle back at the old-timer.
“Fuck death,” Jamie said. A couple of people turned and looked at Jamie. “Know what I mean?” he said.
“Sure do,” the Miller drinker laughed. “I tell ‘er to suck me every mornin’.”
Jamie had tears in his eyes while he chuckled. He brushed them away with the hairs on the back of his hand. The old man might as well’ve been his best friend. But then the old man got up and stumbled out of the place. His suspenders held his blue polyester pants above his ankles. The cuffs swished against his legs as he moved. He didn’t say goodbye to Jamie on his way out, didn’t even look in his direction.
Jamie finished the first beer and the second Jack and ordered one more of each and soon he was drunk as a roach on its back. He could hear his heart down there in his chest. His heartbeat was clogging his ears. He pressed the fresh bottle of beer against his forehead.
He thought a little bit about death. How much and how little it meant. He wondered how his mother would matter now that she was gone. Jamie didn’t know too much about the world, so he had a hard time casting any of it in a greater light. He tried to think about God. He wondered whether or not he believed in God. He’d been baptized Catholic and that was it. He wasn’t qualified in Jesus. He was sorta’ scared of Jesus. Scared Jesus would tell him he was too late.
Jamie could see his mother scrambling eggs in the kitchen. Shaking her hips to Bob Seger for a man she’d lost or hadn’t found yet. The forever cigarette dangling from a lost and lusting pout. Big auburn waves falling across her back.
He could see her pulling her ’73 Continental Mark IV into the driveway after a day waiting tables at the Motor Diner & Cocktail Lounge. The big dual exhaust V8 coughing monoxide into the dusk, choking the crickets and the sparrows. She’d have the cigarette, denim jacket, a bag or two of groceries. The day’s make-up falling apart on her tired face.
He could see her sitting on a man’s lap. The TV on and glowing across their bodies. Him with his handlebar mustache, western shirt tucked into Wranglers, work boots, smelling like too much Stetson. Her cuddling into the beef of his arm, snuggling her cheek against his shoulder, want want wanting to say “I love you” and have it said back. Right there. Like that. Jamie would sit on the couch. Starsky and Hutch. The Six Million Dollar Man. Taxi. His mother would laugh on that lap. The man would drink his Pabst. Half a hard-on choking beneath her ass.
Jamie was crying then. He had his head down in his glass, trying to keep things hidden from the strangers around him. The only ones he ever knew. His mom, she was his friend, he figured. She’d taken him horseback riding. Bought him a straw hat with a plastic sheriff’s badge glued to the front. Red bandanna. She even bought a pair of cap-guns and they’d have shootouts together. That was extra shit, far as Jamie was concerned. There was no father so she went farther than most would’ve. And still shouted her whiskey downs. And still poured the bottomless bean for men who would’ve let her keep her uniform on and her hair done-up.
Jamie found himself wishing he would’ve kept her from being so lonely in her life. But he sat there being her. And he knew that would’ve been impossible.
There was snot on his wrist from the sobs. Sweat on his temples and underarms and forearms. The room was starting to tilt. He could feel the other patrons shifting in their seats, whispering to each other. The bartender approached but before he could say anything Jamie gathered himself and spoke:
“Can you tell me the name of this town?”
“It’s called Story Lake,” the bartender said. “Are you okay, fella’? Can I call somebody for ya’?”
“I’ll call her,” Jamie said. “Do you have a phone here?”
“It’s in the back by the bathrooms.” The bartender pointed somewhere and Jamie got up out of his stool and started moving towards it. He could feel a dozen eyes rolling across him as he staggered towards the payphone.
He pulled the number from his wallet. He threw three quarters in the slot, unsure of how far away he was and how much it would cost him to get where he wanted to be. The ink on the paper was fading. What he thought was a three looked like a two. A seven looked like a one. He took his best guess and punched the numbers in.
“Hi, it’s Tanya. I can’t get to my phone right now. Please leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks.”
There was a beep and it startled Jamie. He hung up the phone and pressed his head against the metal housing it sat in. He understood he’d have to leave a message. He’d be talking not to a person, but to the idea of the person listening later. It wouldn’t be easy. He practiced a little bit.
“Shum…Heys…This is Jaim- Jamie callin’…I just wanted to…talk about it.”
He quickly grew frustrated and stopped practicing.
The payphone rang.
It put a shot into Jaime. He picked it up almost instantly. Somehow he knew it was the thing to do. Once the phone was in his hand he took a moment. Then he put it to the side of his face.
“Hello,” he said.
“Who is this?” Tanya asked.
“It’s…Jamie. Jamie. I’m sorry.”
“What’re you sorry about?”
“I’m sorry I’m callin’ you. I’m sorry I’m callin’…”
“Well that’s why I gave you number, right? So you could call me.”
“I’m sorry I waited so long to call you. I don’t know why I waited so long.”
“Probably ‘cause you’re a little shy. Been a while since you had a girl’s phone number?”
“Yeah I guess.”
“Whaddayou want, Jamie?” she asked him.
“Well…I been drinkin’ some. I feel like I gotta’ tell you that.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“My mom was pretty sick. She had cancer and she died today. I’m not tryin’ to make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Tanya said. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”
“Could I see you?”
There was a pause. Jamie felt the hook underneath his lower lip.
“When?” she finally asked.
“I mean…” Jamie put his hand to his forehead. Tears fell from his eyes again. He talked through them. “Would you come get me? Would you come get me if it’s alright?”
He heard Tanya exhale. He listened with all his might.
“Where are you, baby?” she said.
“I’m in a town called…Story City. Story…”
“Story Lake?”
“Yeah. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ve heard of it. I think it’s just off seventeen.”
“I’m in a place…a restaurant just across from the bus station. I took the bus here.”
“Okay. Just stay there. Don’t make me drive all the way and then vanish.”
“I won’t vanish,” Jamie said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“It’s gonna’ be a big omelet in the morning, Jamie. And french toast.”
“Okay,” Jamie said. It got him. He cried on it.
***
When she pulled up at the Station Grill, she could see him through the window sitting at the bar. He looked like a million men on any night. His broad shoulders were hunched over the wood, the day was slowly sliding off of him. The bartender was cleaning shotglasses. Most of the chairs were on their tables.
She stepped inside the place. She sat in a seat next to Jamie. His broken eyes turned to face her. She touched his face.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Not a word passed between them on the ride to her house. The highway was empty save the headlights of Tanya’s Corolla. Every window was open and the nocturnal orchestra of summer filled the air. Jamie watched the woods whip by him. Tanya smoked a cigarette in long drags.
In her bedroom she sat him on the edge of the bed. She pulled his boots off. She stood him up and pulled his shirt off. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pulled his pants off of him. She got him in the bed. The air conditioner in her room hummed like an old man trying to remember something. Jamie watched her pull her dress up over her body. She was naked when she got in the bed with him.
She pulled him into her. Ran her fingers through his hair. Kissed him over his eyes. He could hear her heart thumping beneath her breast. They were both breathing hard. They kissed a little bit. Jamie cried some. The room spun for him. She held him close.
***
The sun snuck between the blinds and pried Jamie’s eyes open. Tanya was lying there asleep next to him. His head felt like it’d been run through a brick wall and then set on fire. His mouth was a desert. Her bedroom was small with a dresser and a single closet tucked in one corner. A nightstand stood on her side of the bed. There was a glass of water on it. A book called “The Crimson Hunter.” A bottle of Excedrin.
Jamie got up and found the bathroom. It was tiny but clean. The powder blue floral wallpaper looked recent. The tub was white as a tooth. Jamie made sure to wipe around the toilet when he was finished pissing in it.
He returned to the bedroom to find her leaning against the headboard with a pillow behind her. She put those green stars on him. Jamie felt self-conscious in nothing but his boxer-briefs.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said.
“Come here,” she said.
Jamie moved to the bed and got underneath the sheet. Tanya had a tattoo of a crucifix covered in thorns and roses right above her bellybutton.
They sat there for a moment. Tanya was looking at him. Jamie was looking at her and looking away.
“Thanks for gettin’ me,” he said.
“I’m only gonna’ do it once, Jamie,” she said. “And you might have to do it for me once. Understand?”
Jamie looked at her. He looked at the scar on her neck. It’d been there a while he guessed. “Yeah,” he answered.
“You work real hard,” Tanya told him. “You’re a hard workin’ man.”
That made Jamie smile. She smiled back at him.
“You work too hard,” she said.
They smiled at each other again. The sun had almost completely emptied into the room.
Jamie swallowed and touched her hand.
The double bourbon was gone and Jamie ordered another one. One of the men at the bar took notice of Jamie’s pace but said nothing. He tilted his bottle of Miller Light toward Jamie and smiled. Jamie tilted his Heineken bottle back at the old-timer.
“Fuck death,” Jamie said. A couple of people turned and looked at Jamie. “Know what I mean?” he said.
“Sure do,” the Miller drinker laughed. “I tell ‘er to suck me every mornin’.”
Jamie had tears in his eyes while he chuckled. He brushed them away with the hairs on the back of his hand. The old man might as well’ve been his best friend. But then the old man got up and stumbled out of the place. His suspenders held his blue polyester pants above his ankles. The cuffs swished against his legs as he moved. He didn’t say goodbye to Jamie on his way out, didn’t even look in his direction.
Jamie finished the first beer and the second Jack and ordered one more of each and soon he was drunk as a roach on its back. He could hear his heart down there in his chest. His heartbeat was clogging his ears. He pressed the fresh bottle of beer against his forehead.
He thought a little bit about death. How much and how little it meant. He wondered how his mother would matter now that she was gone. Jamie didn’t know too much about the world, so he had a hard time casting any of it in a greater light. He tried to think about God. He wondered whether or not he believed in God. He’d been baptized Catholic and that was it. He wasn’t qualified in Jesus. He was sorta’ scared of Jesus. Scared Jesus would tell him he was too late.
Jamie could see his mother scrambling eggs in the kitchen. Shaking her hips to Bob Seger for a man she’d lost or hadn’t found yet. The forever cigarette dangling from a lost and lusting pout. Big auburn waves falling across her back.
He could see her pulling her ’73 Continental Mark IV into the driveway after a day waiting tables at the Motor Diner & Cocktail Lounge. The big dual exhaust V8 coughing monoxide into the dusk, choking the crickets and the sparrows. She’d have the cigarette, denim jacket, a bag or two of groceries. The day’s make-up falling apart on her tired face.
He could see her sitting on a man’s lap. The TV on and glowing across their bodies. Him with his handlebar mustache, western shirt tucked into Wranglers, work boots, smelling like too much Stetson. Her cuddling into the beef of his arm, snuggling her cheek against his shoulder, want want wanting to say “I love you” and have it said back. Right there. Like that. Jamie would sit on the couch. Starsky and Hutch. The Six Million Dollar Man. Taxi. His mother would laugh on that lap. The man would drink his Pabst. Half a hard-on choking beneath her ass.
Jamie was crying then. He had his head down in his glass, trying to keep things hidden from the strangers around him. The only ones he ever knew. His mom, she was his friend, he figured. She’d taken him horseback riding. Bought him a straw hat with a plastic sheriff’s badge glued to the front. Red bandanna. She even bought a pair of cap-guns and they’d have shootouts together. That was extra shit, far as Jamie was concerned. There was no father so she went farther than most would’ve. And still shouted her whiskey downs. And still poured the bottomless bean for men who would’ve let her keep her uniform on and her hair done-up.
Jamie found himself wishing he would’ve kept her from being so lonely in her life. But he sat there being her. And he knew that would’ve been impossible.
There was snot on his wrist from the sobs. Sweat on his temples and underarms and forearms. The room was starting to tilt. He could feel the other patrons shifting in their seats, whispering to each other. The bartender approached but before he could say anything Jamie gathered himself and spoke:
“Can you tell me the name of this town?”
“It’s called Story Lake,” the bartender said. “Are you okay, fella’? Can I call somebody for ya’?”
“I’ll call her,” Jamie said. “Do you have a phone here?”
“It’s in the back by the bathrooms.” The bartender pointed somewhere and Jamie got up out of his stool and started moving towards it. He could feel a dozen eyes rolling across him as he staggered towards the payphone.
He pulled the number from his wallet. He threw three quarters in the slot, unsure of how far away he was and how much it would cost him to get where he wanted to be. The ink on the paper was fading. What he thought was a three looked like a two. A seven looked like a one. He took his best guess and punched the numbers in.
“Hi, it’s Tanya. I can’t get to my phone right now. Please leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks.”
There was a beep and it startled Jamie. He hung up the phone and pressed his head against the metal housing it sat in. He understood he’d have to leave a message. He’d be talking not to a person, but to the idea of the person listening later. It wouldn’t be easy. He practiced a little bit.
“Shum…Heys…This is Jaim- Jamie callin’…I just wanted to…talk about it.”
He quickly grew frustrated and stopped practicing.
The payphone rang.
It put a shot into Jaime. He picked it up almost instantly. Somehow he knew it was the thing to do. Once the phone was in his hand he took a moment. Then he put it to the side of his face.
“Hello,” he said.
“Who is this?” Tanya asked.
“It’s…Jamie. Jamie. I’m sorry.”
“What’re you sorry about?”
“I’m sorry I’m callin’ you. I’m sorry I’m callin’…”
“Well that’s why I gave you number, right? So you could call me.”
“I’m sorry I waited so long to call you. I don’t know why I waited so long.”
“Probably ‘cause you’re a little shy. Been a while since you had a girl’s phone number?”
“Yeah I guess.”
“Whaddayou want, Jamie?” she asked him.
“Well…I been drinkin’ some. I feel like I gotta’ tell you that.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“My mom was pretty sick. She had cancer and she died today. I’m not tryin’ to make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m sorry,” Tanya said. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”
“Could I see you?”
There was a pause. Jamie felt the hook underneath his lower lip.
“When?” she finally asked.
“I mean…” Jamie put his hand to his forehead. Tears fell from his eyes again. He talked through them. “Would you come get me? Would you come get me if it’s alright?”
He heard Tanya exhale. He listened with all his might.
“Where are you, baby?” she said.
“I’m in a town called…Story City. Story…”
“Story Lake?”
“Yeah. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ve heard of it. I think it’s just off seventeen.”
“I’m in a place…a restaurant just across from the bus station. I took the bus here.”
“Okay. Just stay there. Don’t make me drive all the way and then vanish.”
“I won’t vanish,” Jamie said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“It’s gonna’ be a big omelet in the morning, Jamie. And french toast.”
“Okay,” Jamie said. It got him. He cried on it.
***
When she pulled up at the Station Grill, she could see him through the window sitting at the bar. He looked like a million men on any night. His broad shoulders were hunched over the wood, the day was slowly sliding off of him. The bartender was cleaning shotglasses. Most of the chairs were on their tables.
She stepped inside the place. She sat in a seat next to Jamie. His broken eyes turned to face her. She touched his face.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Not a word passed between them on the ride to her house. The highway was empty save the headlights of Tanya’s Corolla. Every window was open and the nocturnal orchestra of summer filled the air. Jamie watched the woods whip by him. Tanya smoked a cigarette in long drags.
In her bedroom she sat him on the edge of the bed. She pulled his boots off. She stood him up and pulled his shirt off. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. She pulled his pants off of him. She got him in the bed. The air conditioner in her room hummed like an old man trying to remember something. Jamie watched her pull her dress up over her body. She was naked when she got in the bed with him.
She pulled him into her. Ran her fingers through his hair. Kissed him over his eyes. He could hear her heart thumping beneath her breast. They were both breathing hard. They kissed a little bit. Jamie cried some. The room spun for him. She held him close.
***
The sun snuck between the blinds and pried Jamie’s eyes open. Tanya was lying there asleep next to him. His head felt like it’d been run through a brick wall and then set on fire. His mouth was a desert. Her bedroom was small with a dresser and a single closet tucked in one corner. A nightstand stood on her side of the bed. There was a glass of water on it. A book called “The Crimson Hunter.” A bottle of Excedrin.
Jamie got up and found the bathroom. It was tiny but clean. The powder blue floral wallpaper looked recent. The tub was white as a tooth. Jamie made sure to wipe around the toilet when he was finished pissing in it.
He returned to the bedroom to find her leaning against the headboard with a pillow behind her. She put those green stars on him. Jamie felt self-conscious in nothing but his boxer-briefs.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said.
“Come here,” she said.
Jamie moved to the bed and got underneath the sheet. Tanya had a tattoo of a crucifix covered in thorns and roses right above her bellybutton.
They sat there for a moment. Tanya was looking at him. Jamie was looking at her and looking away.
“Thanks for gettin’ me,” he said.
“I’m only gonna’ do it once, Jamie,” she said. “And you might have to do it for me once. Understand?”
Jamie looked at her. He looked at the scar on her neck. It’d been there a while he guessed. “Yeah,” he answered.
“You work real hard,” Tanya told him. “You’re a hard workin’ man.”
That made Jamie smile. She smiled back at him.
“You work too hard,” she said.
They smiled at each other again. The sun had almost completely emptied into the room.
Jamie swallowed and touched her hand.
LI, NY (3/1/09)
posted by Sam Ford | 12:14 PM
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1 comments
