She tried to tune in to a radio station. Her restlessness wouldn’t allow her to stay on any particular station for very long. She then reached for the glove compartment where she fished out a cassette tape of Kool & the Gang and stuck it in the tape player. The music made her smile. It was upbeat. She didn’t like anything too sad; sad movies, sad music. She couldn’t sit still with sadness for very long. When she felt sad she went for a jog or worked out to one of her aerobic tapes. “Celebrate good times. Come on!” The music made her smile. It reminded her of Bloomington, nothing more than farmland and limestone quarries if it weren’t for the campus of Indiana University. Indeed a whole other world to Allison. Here she met people from all over the world. The music reminded her of parties at her sorority house: being young and free and away from Lamasco. Kent had really never forgiven her, not so much for leaving Lamasco as for enjoying Bloomington and Chicago so much.
Do I really still love him? The gnawing question surfaced again. Of course I do. I’m moving back to Lamasco for him. She glanced down at the diamond ring on her left ring finger. They were engaged yet the whole thing happened without Allison taking much note of it. She put in another tape, turned up the music and pressed the accelerator, drowning her doubts, fleeing from her second thoughts.
After a time she noticed an anxious feeling which had moved in gradually like an unwelcome houseguest. It was a feeling of doom, of dread, like someone or something closing in on her. She looked in the rear view mirror and immediately identified the source of this uneasiness. It was a man in a white Ford following close behind her, too close. I wish this joker would get off my tail. Why doesn’t he just pass me? She looked as far back as she could, but saw no sign of her father or Kent. When did I lose them? She looked again. The realization hit her like an unexpected slap in the face. The siren sounded and the blue lights flashed.
“Shit!” Allison said aloud banging her hand on the steering wheel as she pulled over to the shoulder. Don’t panic, Al. Just smile at the nice policeman. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. She quickly switched off Michael Jackson along with the engine and rolled down the windows. Just in front of her was a large road sign: Welcome to Lamasco–A Great Place to Raise a Family.
The police officer was a large man. He swaggered over to the car, adjusting his pants which rode low on his hips. His large protruding beer gut would not allow him to pull his trousers up any further, still he continued to tug, more out of nervous habit than actual necessity, Allison guessed. He approached the car, and to Allison’s alarm, leaned his gigantic upper torso through the car window. She feared for a moment he may get stuck. Oh, no, here it is! The Intimidating In Your Face Lean. She’d been pulled over enough to know that the roughest cops always leaned in the window rather than stood back at a safe distance.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Good afternoon, officer,” Allison said looking at the distorted reflection of her smiling face in his mirrored sunglasses.
“You got any idea how fast you were goin’ there?”
“Seventy maybe?
“Try seventy-eight.”
“Seventy-eight? You’re kidding! Not that I doubt your word, officer.” She’d tried the ‘perhaps your radar’s not working correctly’ argument before, but it had not been well received, particularly with the type of cop that does the intimidating lean.
“License and registration please.”
Allison took her wallet out of her purse and handed the officer her license with a calm and finesse that surprised even her. She even pulled the registration out of the glove compartment without disrupting the stacks of cassette tapes which lay on top. This was getting to be such a routine, her hands didn’t even shake.
“Be back in a moment, Miss.” She knew he was the type to call her “Miss”. It seemed all Lamasco men over forty either talked like John Wayne or mumbled their words like her dad.
Now came the time of terrible waiting. She felt like she was back in school again as she remembered all the admonitions from teachers about misbehavior going on a permanent record. What did her permanent record look like? She imagined an off-white, yellowish card like the report cards from grade school. Hers’ would be all marked up with the dreaded red ink. Of course, the large police officer had access to her permanent record through some mysterious source. He was looking it over right now in his white LTD. She imagined him, red pen in hand, mirthfully scribbling away on her card as he laughed an evil villainous laugh.
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a horn honking. She looked up just in time to see her father drive by. He slowed down and waved, a smug, satisfied smile on his face. Following close behind was Kent, who only gave her a quick baffled glance and shrug of his shoulders. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” said Allison banging her head on the steering wheel.
“Careful. You do that too hard and you may knock some sense into that head of yours,” came the voice of the big cop ready to lean into her face again as soon as she moved out of his way.
“Oh... Sorry Officer,” spoke two grimacing caricatures of Allison who mocked her from his mirrored sunglasses.
He leaned his large body as far into the car as it could possibly go and let go a sadistic little chuckle. He had the same gloating smile on his face that she imagined her father might have had when he passed her. “Well, well, well. I see this isn’t your first time to be pulled over. With this red car I figured as much. Three previous tickets and the Lord knows how many warnings along the way.” He was enjoying this far too much. Allison thought he must’ve been the type of kid that enjoyed pulling the legs, one by one, off spiders. “But ya know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna go easy on ya,” he continued.
Allison’s hope returned. Was it actually possible that he would let her off with just a warning? Keep smiling, Al. Smile and grovel. Apologize all over yourself.
“Thank you officer. I know I don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry. This won’t happen again.”
“Hold it there now, little lady. I ain’t finished yet. Like I was sayin’, I ought to charge you with reckless driving, seein’ as how you was goin’ nearly twenty-five miles over the speed limit and couldn’t decide which lane to stay in. But I’m gonna let you off easy and charge you with speeding. I’ll say here you was only goin’ seventy,” he said as he wrote the ticket. “You’re a lucky lady. You just get to go back to school. Defensive Driving School, that is.”
“Thank you officer,” Allison said with a frozen smile on her face. He handed her the ticket, and at that moment she wished that she was the kind of woman who could produce tears at will. If she thought dramatics would do her any good, she would have given it a try, but she knew it wouldn’t work with Officer Big Boy.
The huge man leaned his face into her car one last time. “You need to slow down, Miss. Stop and smell the roses. Young gal like you’s gonna miss too much of life racin’ around like you do. All right then,” he said finally lifting his enormous self out of her window. “You have a nice day and welcome to Lamasco.”
“Yes, Officer.” Allison sat in her car and watched the cop pull away. Her hands were shaking now. Shit! Defensive Driving School. So what? It’s only a few weeks out of my life. It’s my own life. My own ticket. I’ll pay my own damned fine. She turned the engine back on. The sound of Vincent Price’s crazy laugh at the close of the Thriller track blared in her ear. She quickly popped the tape out and on came the radio.
“Our love’s in jeopardy... baby.” Ech! I hate that song. She turned the radio off, then the engine. She leaned over and rolled down the passenger window, then just sat listening to the intermittent hum of passing vehicles, leaving in its space the sounds of nature, insects buzzing, birds chirping, and a warm breeze rustling through a nearby cornfield. After a while she started the car again and pulled slowly away from the curb, listening to the sound of the pavement beneath her wheels. Maybe I’ll adapt to life in Lamasco again. Maybe I can learn to go at a slower pace. I can do slow. Slow’s not so bad, Allison thought as she
stayed in the right lane and watched car after car whiz past her. She thought how ridiculous it was that she should be the one slowing up traffic.
The after effects of the speeding ticket along with Allison’s new found resolve to go more slowly and thoughtfully had worn off by the fifth consecutive red light. There was a stoplight on every corner in Lamasco and they were all timed so no one could hit two green lights in a row. It was an engineering feat that never ceased to both amaze and annoy Allison. By the time she neared her new home, she was in such a state of agitation she yelled, “I hate this town.” Cool it, Al. Get a grip on yourself. I will think positive thoughts. I will think positive thoughts. I am calm. I am in control. I’m starting a new life. Kent and I can finally be together. No more long distance relationship. Allison took a deep breath as she drove into the apartment complex which would be her new home.
“Camelot Apartments–Welcome ye home!” the sign read in Old English lettering. “One and two bedroom luxury units available,” another sign read as she passed the stone and brick manager’s office. A few small trees had been newly planted in the grassy median that lined the drive. Each apartment building looked the same with its reddish-brown brick foundation; its white stucco with brown wood timber cross beams, criss-crossing in the English Tudor style around the window and door frames; and finally the trademark brick turrets built onto the side of each building, standing like sentries, tall and unmovable. Atop each turret waved a triangular white flag which bore the image of some mythological coat-of-arms type creature–part dog, part lion, part dragon breathing out tufts of flame and standing on its hind paws. She had seen real castles in Europe and this was about as close as she could get to one in Lamasco. As she fixed her gaze on one of the turrets far off in the distance and squinted, she imagined standing on the ancient ruins of a long lost world, like she had when she lived in Europe.
Allison opened her eyes wide. She was back in Lamasco at the brand new Camelot apartment complex on the far end of town amidst the suburban sprawl of commercial real estate; with its piles of brown dirt, workmen, bulldozers, and the all-around sights and sounds of new buildings going up. This was her little slice of romance and chivalry right here in the Midwest, situated between a cornfield and a strip mall.
Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Allison smiled until she saw her father and Kent parked in front of her new home; building 3300 Lancelot Lane, Camelot Apartments, Lamasco, Indiana. There they were, each of them respectively, leaning against their pick up trucks. Damn! Of course they got here before me. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Oh, to hell with it. My apologies to Zig Ziglar and Dennis Waitley, but my Dad is standing over there with a shit eating grin on his face. This is no time to smile. Her father’s sour mood was no match for her own, and just like the beginning of their journey, the end of their journey found Kent, once again, standing in the middle like a spectator at the ping pong championship.
Later that night when she and Kent were alone unpacking boxes in the new apartment, Allison confronted him on his reluctance to defend her. “Why don’t you ever take my side when we’re with my Dad?”
“As if you need anyone to take your side. You don’t need my help. You do just fine on your own.”
“What ever happened to chivalry?”
“You want chivalry? I thought you were a feminist.”
“I am. I’m just get tired of fighting all my battles alone.”
“He’s your Dad, Al. Besides, most of the time he’s right.”
“All right now we’re getting to the real reason. You’re afraid to stand up to him.”
“I’m not afraid of him. I just respect him. He’s my future father-in-law.”
“What really gets me is that you didn’t even stop when you saw I got pulled over.”
“Why should I? What good could it have possibly done?”
“You would’ve been there when I needed you. You could’ve offered moral support.”
“Oh, yeah? You know who that cop was?”
“No.”
“Ol’ Fat Ass. “
“Who?”
“The cop that pulled you over. I got a good look at him. It was Ol’ Fat Ass all right. The meanest cop in Lamasco. You remember him. He’s the one who busted me and the guys back in high school. Caught us with a case of beer down by the river.”
“So?”
“Moral support ain’t gonna do you any good with Ol’ Fat Ass.”
*****
It was Sunday morning, Allison’s first morning as a resident of Camelot Apartments. She sat at the kitchen table of her new home indulging in her usual Sunday morning habit… reading the Sunday paper, eating donuts, and drinking coffee. She hadn’t had a chance to get to the grocery store yet, so she picked up her breakfast at the nearest Donut Bank, a string of locally owned and operated donut shops run by an old Lamasco family. This is the best thing about Lamasco, Allison thought biting into the chocolate long john allowing the flavor to transport her into a place of near ecstasy. She swished down the bite with a big gulp of coffee. It tasted so wonderful it made her eyes water. She was hard pressed to think of any baked goods anywhere in all her travels that could even come close to matching the Donut Bank’s. She figured it was how Ol’ Fat Ass got in the shape he did. She thought of Defensive Driving School and stuffed the rest of the chocolate long john in her mouth.
Allison opened the box of the dozen assorted donuts and counted them. There were now nine left. She reached for another but stopped herself. She knew if she had another donut she’d have to starve herself the rest of the day. As it was she’d have to go for an extra long jog. An extra long jog to work off the extra long john. She spread the newspaper over the box of donuts so she wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. Already the effects of the chocolate were wearing off and the guilt was setting in. Get up, Al, and do something constructive, she told herself looking around at all the boxes that needed to be unpacked. Suddenly she felt very sad. So sad to think this was her hometown but she no longer knew anybody here except Kent, his family, and her parents. She wished she could see Kent, but she knew she wouldn’t today. He’d be tied up on the family farm for the rest of the day.
Kent loved that farm. He still lived there. He was trying to save up enough money for a down payment on a house, one that they could move into when they got married. Allison knew that Kent couldn’t tear himself away from the family farm. She knew their first house would be somewhere on the rural outskirts of Lamasco, somewhere near that farm, which is why she chose to live on the opposite end of town. At least for now. At least during this short period of time when she was still her own person. If she had to live in Lamasco then she would get as far away as she could from her own farming and blue collar roots. During this brief period in her life that she could still call her own she would live on the other side of Lamasco, the newer and developing side where the newcomers and transients lived, the well educated and those not so deeply rooted in this town.
Kent asked why she had to live all the way on the other side of town where the rent was higher. “Why can’t you get a place a little closer to me?” he asked. Because, she told him, she wanted something newer. She had had it with renting older places, with old appliances, and poor insulation, and constant repairs needed. It was a lame excuse for someone supposedly in love. Kent’s face dropped when she told him where she planned to live until they could buy their first house. She was seeing that disappointed look more and more.
She and Kent were high school sweethearts. They’d been together since sophomore year. He was her first. Her only. They were crazy about each other and seemed like-minded on everything, until senior year. This is when they began to disagree. She wanted to leave Lamasco and he didn’t. He got a basketball scholarship to Lamasco University. He had every reason to stay and she had no excuse to leave, other than a claustrophobia that made her feel like she would suffocate if she didn’t. They had the conversation so many times. Lamasco U. was a great school. She could learn j
ust as much there as she could at IU. He didn’t understand what she meant by “broadening your horizons”. So she left and he stayed. They were mature about the whole thing. They gave each other permission to date around, believing that if it was really meant to be, their love would survive four years. They broke up once during their second year, but only for a few miserable weeks. After that, they stepped up their weekend visits and ran up their long distance phone bills.
So their love had survived, not just four years but five. The fifth year was the hardest. After college graduation Allison landed a job with one of the most prestigious marketing firms in Chicago. Kent argued that she didn’t love him enough to move back home and settle down. After all, hadn’t she gotten all her wanderlust out of her? She argued that he had to love her enough to give her this freedom, this independence, this chance to live and work in a big city. The compromise was he’d give her one year then if she wasn’t willing to move back, they were through.
Kent was an old habit that Allison just couldn’t give up no matter how much she wanted to. For all of her so-called independence she was dreadfully afraid of not having someone to call her own. She was estranged from her own family. Kent was all the family she had anymore. If she gave him up then who would she have? And so she felt forever torn. The fifth year came and went and here she was. She gave up the promising career in Chicago to work for a small advertising agency here in Podunk, USA that dealt mostly in billboards and signs.
Allison thought of her new job which she would start the very next day. She knew the old boys’ network was thick here in Lamasco. She feared they would call her “little Miss” and treat her as secretary rather than a consultant. And since the cost of living was lower here than in Chicago, she was taking a significant cut in pay. She guessed it was just one of the little sacrifices one had to make. But for what, she wondered.
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