Frisbee

by Eric Bergreen

TWENTY-EIGHT

  When we came to the edge of the field, we had to cross a shallow, concrete drainage ditch. If it had been used recently, it left no signs of the passage of water. Once on the other side, we faced the back of a small apartment building that lay on the outskirts of the parking lot of the city hospital. At one corner, a hose grew from the stucco wall providing us with a refreshing drink of clear cool city water.

  With our thirst taken care of for the moment, we walked around the apartment unit and onto the blistering asphalt of a parking lot. Wavy mirage lines wiggled everywhere, the ground tacky under our feet as we strolled through. Above the main entrance to the single story building, two-foot high letters spelled out: CORONA COMMUNITY HOSPITAL.

  Jason, Susan and I had all been born here. Cory had as well, but Steve had been born out of state, although he had spent some time in one of the small rooms, convalescing from the damage done by his father.

  A hospital is but a weigh station in life; a place where you spend your first moments on earth, or your last before death; a place where God giveth and God taketh away; a place of unimaginable happiness and also of unthinkable tragedy. For Steve, his tragedy came at an early age when he lost his father. Not to death, but to violence.

  We walked on, moving in between cars, baring the heat of the late morning sun. At the far end of the lot, a hill lead up to a group of buildings that stood elevated, on higher ground, above the hospital, as if they somehow knew they were better than the bigger building below.

  The hill was made of the same asphalt as the lot was and ran at a twenty degree angle. It was intended for vehicles but when riding our bikes in the area it made for a great shortcut and we’d soar down into the hospital parking lot below, though it pissed off the staff to no end.

  Now without our bikes, we were forced to hike the hill to get to the pharmacy, which wasn’t bad but on a hot day like that, it was like climbing Everest.

  Privately owned suites made up the small group of buildings above. A dentist’s office stood here, a pediatrics practice over there, a gynecologist’s office next to that. And at the northwest corner stood our intended destination: The Pharmacy.

  The offices were all painted a uniform blue, with white molding on the doors and roof. The hallways were outside but covered and walking through them was cooler than in the direct sunlight. When we finally reached the pharmacy, it was Steve who opened the door and held it for us as we filed into the air conditioned room. As I walked through I saw that the door frame had recently been repaired. Fresh, unpainted wood had been screwed in to make a new groove for the lock’s bolt to fit.

  There was a long counter that split the suite in half. On one side, the pharmacist and his assistants moved back and forth, pulling bottles filled with patients’ prescriptions from clean white shelves and placing them into clean white paper bags, readying them for pick-up. On the other side, there were lotions and cold medicines, aspirin and antacids, foot powder and jock powder and an assortment of other remedies for what ailed you. At the far end of the room, on a small end-table, a two-foot by two-foot refrigerator stood. Inside were ice cold Cokes, Pepsis and 7-Ups. Next to the fridge was a rack filled with an abundance of chocolate bars and hard candy.

  This is what we had come for.

  Dr. Stan, the pharmacist, looked up form a clipboard when he heard the door open and close behind us and he pushed his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose to get a better look. He was in his late fifties or early sixties. His hair was gone from the top of his head and looked as if it had migrated to his nose and ears. He was thin, had no chin and when he looked at you straight on, you couldn’t help but think that the man might be part turtle. He was a good pharmacist though and a kind man and we never made fun of his appearance, at least not in his presence.

  “Howdy, boys,” Dr. Stan greeted us.

  “Hey, what’s up, doc?” Cory asked, finding the Bugs Bunny line a little more humorous than the rest of us. We rolled our eyes as Dr. Stan gave a low chuckle.

  “Hot enough out there for ya, boys?” The doc said and set his clipboard down for the moment.

  We all nodded, catching our breath from the walk over.

  “Yeah,” he continued, “when I opened up this morning at eight, it was already hotter than a jalapeño fart in Hades.”

  This is why we liked Dr. Stan. The man made us laugh with his witty humor. And, I think, seeing us laugh, in turn, made him laugh. He was one of those guys you didn’t get tired of being around and he always seemed to enjoy any company.

  “I’m going to have to remember that one, Dr. Stan,” Steve told him.

  The doctor’s eyebrows shot up his large, round forehead. “You going to steal one of my lines?”

  Steve put his hand up, defensively, and said, “Hey with your permission, of course.”

  The doctor smiled at this, and replied, “Yeah, I guess it’s okay. But don’t tell your parents you heard it form me. I don’t want to lose there business.”

  “We won’t,” Steve said.

  “It’s a damn shame I even had to open up shop today anyway it being the Fourth and all. But people need there medicine.” He picked his clipboard back up and began to write again, but stopped after remembering something. “Oh, and Cory, tell your mom that we got the pumice stones in for her bunions,” and winked at him.

  Cory closed his eyes and shook his head, a little embarrassed. “Thanks, doc, I’ll tell her,” he said as the rest of us laughed under our breath.

  Continuing his writing, Dr. Stan said to us, “You boys know where the sodas are. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Steve confirmed.

  “Thanks, Dr. Stan,” Jason said.

  “Thanks,” I repeated and followed them.

  We went to the small fridge and opened it, each of us grabbing our own drink. Then, we picked out a candy bar from the rack next to it and took them up to the counter to pay.

  Dr. Stan was just turning to go to the back to tend to other business, but called over his shoulder, “Hold on a second boys, I’ll get Bernice to ring you up.”

  We looked at each other, perplexed. We’d never met any Bernice that worked there before.

  After a moment, Steve said, “Bernice? Wonder what she looks like.”

  “Probably eighty years old and fat as a cow,” Cory whispered. We all giggled at his response.

  Jason puffed out his cheeks and held his arms far form his sides and started waddling around. It drew more laughter form us and some of the assistants looked in our direction with reprimanding stares. Steve had to put a finger to his lips to shush us through a series of laughs.

  “What’s so funny over here?” a voice asked.

  We instantly shut up and turned to the woman standing behind the counter. She wore a white smock with a nametag on the left breast that read: Bernice.

  She was either in her late teens or early twenties, had a slim figure, brown hair tied in a bun and the most alluring green eyes any of us had ever seen. Her voice was that of an angel. Five or six years down the road I’d have wet dreams about girls like her. We all stood, silent, mouths open, taking in her beauty.

  “Did you guys want to buy those sodas and candy bars?” she sang.

  After a moment, Steve realized his jaw was on the floor and after having picked it back up said, “Uh, huh.”

  She smiled and looked at each of us to see what we’d grabbed. “Four sodas and four candy bars. That will be two dollars even.”

  Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out two wadded up bills and laid them on the counter in front of her. She grabbed them, straightened them out and put them into a faded green, metal lock box.

  We continued to stare.

  She looked back, a confused expression across her lovely face, and asked, “Was there anything else?”

  All we could do was look at her, lost in her eyes, and drool until Cory made the unwitty comment of, “Will you marry me?”

  Bernice exploded with laug
hter which made the other assistants look in our direction once again, disapprovingly. Steve gave Cory a little slug to the shoulder as Bernice got control over herself.

  “You’re sweet,” she told him. “I guess I’ll have to ask my boyfriend, though.” She made a little pouty grin. “You boys have a good holiday,” she said and then turned and headed for the back office.

  Cory, looking like he was in heaven, said, “I think I’m in love.”

  “Come on you knucklehead,” Steve told him just as the door opened and a woman and a young girl walked in.

  The woman, wearing a blue sundress, wasn’t at all familiar to us, but Jason recognized the girl at once.

  “Hi, Jason,” the girl said immediately with a jovial grin.

  “Hi,” Jason said back with a wave, soft and shy.

  Although Steve didn’t know her, Cory and I had seen her and Jason talking before on the playground during our last school year. Her name was Amber Nelson. Jason had sat next to her in Mrs. Simmons third grade class and he had somewhat of a school-boy-crush on her and had told no one of it but me. And although Cory knew a little, I had let that cat out of its bag just days before at the Fort in Dead Grove as we read dirty magazines.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Amber inquired.

  Jason looked at us, a pink blush rising on his cheeks. Amber’s mother had gone to the counter and was talking with Dr. Stan who had returned form the back.

  Jason, looking at his feet now, said, “Oh, we were just out walking around. You know, looking for something to do. We just got thirsty and came up here for a soda.” He finally met her gaze and his cheeks reddened more. “What are you up to?”

  Giving a quick smile, Amber rolled her eyes. “Oh, just running some errands with my mom.”

  Steve, Cory and I had taken a seat on a bench against the wall, sipping our drinks and nibbling our candy bars. We had a front row seat to Jason and Amber’s little interlude and watched as each had fallen into a short uncomfortable silence. When Jason looked over to us we’d try to embarrass him by making kissing motions while Amber looked away.

  At that age, you don’t really know the basics of conversation with the opposite sex and we could tell they were becoming more and more flustered as both tried to think of something to say.

  But then the sun showed through the clouds and Amber found a worthy topic.

  “Hey,” she said. “We went to Disneyland last week.”

  Jason, looking surprised and a little relieved that the silence had been broken, said, “Really? Wow, that sounds fun. Did you go on lots of rides?”

  “Yeah. First we went on The Matterhorn and then The Pirates of the Caribbean.”

  “I love those rides.” The color on Jason’s face began to lighten.

  “Then we went on The Jungle Cruise and The Haunted Mansion. That one was a little scary.”

  “Yeah, I get a little scared on that one too.” He looked at us and shrugged his shoulders as if to ask; am I doing this right?

  “But,” Amber went on, “the neatest part was when we went to Tom Sawyer’s island and did the canoes.

  “Oh, I’ve never tried those. But they look fun.”

  “Yeah, they are. You should try them next time you go.”

  “I think I will.”

  They both became silent again as the topic died, but it was a short silence. We could almost see the light bulb come on above Jason’s head as he asked, “Hey, what are you and your parents doing tonight for the Fourth of July? We’re having a block party on our street. Maybe you could see if your parents would like to come. There’s going to be fireworks and everything.”

  And then with about the most disappointed, lowdown look I’d ever seen a girl make, Amber said, “Oh. I wish I could. But we’re all going out to my uncle’s house in Norco to watch the fireworks from the park. I’m sorry.” Then she did something that about made us choke on our candy bars. She reached out and grabbed Jason’s hand and held it in her own.

  Holy crap. I saw my brother in a whole new light then. I remember thinking; this guy’s a stud. It seemed that they really did have something going, even if it was just puppy love.

  “That’s okay,” Jason replied, with stars in his eyes. They looked at each other for longer than what seemed comfortable.

  Cory made a little coughing sound into his closed fist and Jason looked over to see the three of us smiling back at him. Before more embarrassment set in, Steve was quick to give Jason a signal with his eyes and a nod of his head.

  Jason looked in the direction he had indicated to find Mrs. Nelson standing behind him, a surprised look lit upon her face. He snatched his hand back just as she said, “Come Amber. Say goodbye to your friends,” in a surly tone.

  Amber called back, “Bye Jason,” as her mother led her out of the pharmacy.

  “By,” Jason said in a soft voice, not looking away until the door had fully closed.

  When mother and daughter were out of earshot, Steve jumped up from the bench and said, “Alright, Sinfield. High-five, Romeo.” Jason rolled his eyes and slapped Steve’s hand. Cory and I erupted in a bout of giggle.

  “Was that her?” Steve asked. “Was that the girl from your class? The one you like?”

  Jason nodded.

  “Alright, man, she’s a little cutie.”

  Now Cory hopped up from his seat and made a comment of his own. “Hey, she’s not as cute as my girlfriend.”

  Steve turned to face Cory and asked, “What? Who’s your girlfriend?”

  Cory, finished with his candy bar, the wrapper crumpled in one hand, looked up at nothing and dreamily said, “Bernice,” and sighed.

  “Oh, shut up,” Steve said and grabbed him in a head-lock, gave him a noogie. “Come on, you guys. I told my mom I’d help her get ready for the party tonight.”

  “Yeah. We better see if mom needs us to do anything for her, too,” Jason said. “Come on Ricky.”

  We headed back out of the pharmacy. Cory, still under Steve’s arm, yelled back, “I love you, Bernice,” just as the door swung shut.