Saving Brooksie

by Scott McElhaney

  “What’s that?”

  He Googled the name Patience Webb and located her name listed on several web sites. He clicked on the web page titled “Movie Maidens of the 1920’s.”

  She was listed along with a dozen other women catalogued as “Stars of the Silent Era.” He clicked her name which then pulled up a short biography.

  Patience Marie Webb was born on January 17, 1903 in South Bend, Indiana. She began dancing with the Chicago Scandals at the young age of 16. Movie producer George Gless discovered her while she was performing with the Scandals in Los Angeles. He later stated that is was the melancholy droop of her eyes accompanied with that alluring smile that brought her to his attention.

  Her film career ended in tragedy before she ever reached her 26th birthday. Before her death in 1928, she graced the silver screen in seven films – Runaway Daisy (1922), Shop Girl (1923), Francine (1925), Chasing Dawn (1925), Christmas Crossing (1926), Clara’s Man (1927), and New York Flapper (1927). Webb was currently working on her eighth film before she and her fiancée died in a tragic fire.

  That was the end of the short biography. If Brooksie was truly Patience Webb, then she would be dying soon according to the article. He clicked on the photo gallery and discovered a dozen pictures of her. He enlarged them one at a time, examining her eyes closely.

  “Who’s that?” Carl asked.

  Eddie ignored him as he tried to connect with those eyes in the same way he had last night.

  “Who’s the lady?” Carl repeated.

  “She’s the woman from this newspaper article. She was an actress in the 20’s,” he muttered, clicking on another photo.

  He couldn’t tell if her eyes were the same deep shade of brown that he saw at the park last night. Without the benefit of color photography, he would have to assume that they were brown instead of black. The nearly straight, pencil-darkened eyebrows and the downward slant of her sad eyes were identical however. Just from what he had seen in the ballroom last night, most of those women either penciled or plucked their eyebrows in arcs instead of straight across like Brooksie had done.

  “What is your sudden fascination with old music and old women?” Carl asked, “Is your house seriously haunted like we thought?”

  Rather than answer a million questions, Eddie brought the cursor up to the top of the screen and clicked the “X”.

  “My house isn’t haunted, man. I was just wondering who this lady was from the newspaper article.”

  * * * *

  Eddie dropped the 88 cents onto the counter. Mr. Dexter put a jeweler’s eyepiece up to his eye and quickly examined the pennies.

  “Nothin’ significant on those,” he muttered, sliding them to the side.

  Eddie originally met Mr. Dexter when his Government teacher succumbed to a severe case of pregnancy in the winter of his senior year. While Mrs. Jennings was getting acquainted with her newborn son, the seniors at Silver Falls High were getting to know Mr. Dexter. What they learned through the rest of that winter and into the spring couldn’t be found in textbooks.

  Mr. Dexter introduced the class to the amazing secrets of the U.S. Government. They learned about everything from the tunnels beneath the White House to the STD’s of JFK. They learned about SEAL missions to assassinate world leaders as well as other secret battles of the Cold War. Mr. Dexter introduced the seniors of Silver Falls High to the real world of conspiracies and corruption.

  But at the end of those twelve weeks, a heartbroken Mr. Dexter returned to his coin shop on Waterloo Road. It was obvious to everyone that their teacher was having as much fun in the classroom as the wide-eyed students. Now, Mr. Dexter spent his days in solitude, waiting for that familiar jingle of a patron seeking out rare coins.

  Eddie strolled over to the counter and examined some of the old bills displayed in the case. The oversized dollar bills from the early 1900’s were marked with tags of more than a hundred dollars each.

  “You’ve got a nice 1918 quarter here. I’ll give you ten for that and seven for each of the 1920’s. The mercury dime isn’t much, but I’ll give you a buck for it,” he said.

  “What about trade, Mr. Dexter? What if I traded those for some of your cheapest 1920’s silver dollars?” Eddie asked.

  He rubbed his chin and stared down into the glass case.

  “I’ve got a coffee can full of circulated 1923’s in the back. If you don’t care about quality, I’ll give you four of those in trade,” he said.

  Swapping eighty-eight cents for four dollars? He didn’t need to think about that one for long. This could turn out to be a very lucrative business.

  * * * *

  Eddie was tying his shoes when the doorbell rang. He looked up at the living room clock. The only person who could be visiting right now would be his-

  “Eddie, we’re here,” his mom said as she opened the door behind him.

  We?

  He turned to the door and was taken aback by the sight of both of his parents dressed like people out of the 1920’s. How did she explain this to his father, or better yet, did she even explain it at all?

  “You weren’t planning on going back there without me, were you?” his mother asked.

  “Uh…” he stammered, realizing that indeed, he hadn’t expected her to return for a second trip.

  “You did!” she said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Just for the record, I think you’re both nuts,” his father inserted.

  “Yet, here you are in my living room dressed like a man from the early 20th century,” Eddie said, rising from the couch.

  “If she would have told me this story about any other house, I wouldn’t be here right now,” he stated, glancing around the living room for the first time since Eddie moved in, “But everyone in Silver Falls knows that this house is haunted.”

  “Thanks a lot, Dad,” Eddie said, “Since I take it that Mom told you all about it, did she fill you in on the rules? No attachment and the midnight curfew?”

  He was kneeling before the fireplace, probably checking to see if it was gas or wood-burning. His father always longed for a real fireplace.

  “Now I know just who to call to chop down the maple in my back yard. That tree can supply you with enough firewood for two years,” he said as he rose to his feet, “And yes, she told me about the rules.”

  Just then, the rapid rhythm of jazz music rose from the floorboards. Eddie looked up at the clock and nodded.

  “Right on time,” Eddie said.

  His father glanced at the floor and then gave his wife a curious look.

  “Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m meeting Brooksie tonight,” Eddie said, feeling for the coins in his pockets, “Do either of you need any money?”

  His father chuckled as he unfurled an old two-dollar bill.

  “I never thought I’d hear my son ask me that question,” he replied.

  “And I want you guys to behave yourselves tonight,” Eddie added with a laugh, “But seriously, I’ve got someone waiting for me, so I’ve gotta go.”

  He turned and headed toward the basement door as his mother made a comment about their little Eddie growing up so fast. When she whispered something about Eddie’s hot date, he stopped and pointed at her.

  “No, Mom. No attachment and no falling in love with anything or anyone,” he firmly stated, “She’s just a friend. Don’t forget the rules. And don’t forget that it’s a real world. We need to respect that.”

  “And look how serious Eddie is now that he’s all grown up,” she teased, holding onto her husband’s hand, “Lead the way, good sir.”

  5

  June 30, 1928

  The way she figured it, the park manager must be out of town. She couldn’t believe they were playing the jazz music already. Three flapper wannabes were doing the Shimmy while a few of the wallflowers cheered them on. For only a brief moment, she wanted to join them.

  She watched the main entrance, wondering if he would really show up today. Nothing irritated her more
right now than the fact that a lousy man had been on her mind all last night. He had no right to do that and she was ready to put him in his place.

  “Are you-”

  “Beat it, buddy,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand.

  “Wow, what’d I do?” he asked.

  She turned to him and realized that it was Edward. He had somehow snuck in through another entrance – probably the same one he came in yesterday.

  “Sorry, Edward.I’m still hating men a little right now,” she said, peering over his shoulder, “You brought Mommy and Daddy both?”

  “Go easy on him, Brooksie,” his mother said, “We begged him until he gave in.”

  Edward’s mother tugged her reluctant date out onto the dance floor. Brooksie laughed as she watched his father finally give in to his wife’s demands.

  “Your mom has a very strong personality,” Brooksie said, “I’ll bet she doesn’t put up with anything.”

  She turned to Edward and found him staring at her.

  “When I came into the Wisteria a moment ago, it took me only a second to find you. But I’ve gotta say, you frightened me for a moment. I was coming over to ask if you were angry,” he said, “Before you told me to scram, that is. You looked upset.”

  She nodded, glancing out at the wild dancers as they started doing the Bunny Hug. Two of the girls were teaching a small group how to do the dance.

  “I was. I am, I guess,” she said, “Hey, look up there at the bandstand. This is going to clear the dance floor pretty quick.”

  He looked over in the direction of her nod. A man was angrily waving his hand as he said something to the band leader.

  “Are these people really that uptight?” he asked.

  “Alcohol, jazz, and women are all straight from the pits of hell – didn’t you know?” she replied.

  The music stopped, startling the dancers who had been focused on simply having a good time. The people looked up at the bandstand as the musicians replaced their sheet music. After a moment, the band started up again, but this time with a much slower tune known as the Promenade Walk.

  “I’ve always known women were from the fiery pits of hell. And I guess I can understand alcohol, but not jazz,” he replied, “How can jazz compare to the blazes in a woman?”

  She reached down and grabbed a hold of his hand.

  “We can either join these idiots in the two-step or we can ride a few rides. Which do you want to do?” she asked, leading the way toward the door.

  “Both sound good to me,” he replied.

  She stopped and looked at him.

  “Both?” she asked, turning and glancing toward the dance floor, “And you wonder why I was looking angry?”

  She tugged his hand to her side and twirled him to face her. Her eyes locked with his as they started dancing their way to the middle of the dance floor.

  “You really do look angry,” he said, keeping his blue eyes locked on hers.

  “That’s because I still haven’t figured you out,” she replied, wondering suddenly if the flecks in his eyes would sparkle in the sun.

  “If you promise to dance with no one else, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he replied.

  “No, telling me isn’t acceptable,” she said, “If you tell me, then I didn’t figure it out on my own. I can read men like open books.”

  He’s staring at my lips, she thought. They continued in their slow dance.

  “I can tell you that 95% of all men are scum and the other 5% are hiding something,” she stated.

  He’s actually tracing my face with his eyes, she thought. They continued in their slow dance.

  “I don’t think you’re scum, so what are you hiding?” she asked.

  He’s staring into my eyes, she thought. They continued in their slow dance.

  “Well?” she asked.

  He pondered her question for a moment. She could see the reluctance in his eyes as unknown secrets transmitted their way to the front of his mind.

  “No, don’t tell me,” she said, “I’m going to figure it out if it kills me.”

  “And you talk about my mom being a strong woman?” he said, “Can you do me a favor and stop being angry while you try to figure me out?”

  A smile finally chipped away at the angry corners of her mouth.

  “Thank you, Brooksie,” he said.

  * * * *

  This wasn’t going to work at all. He wasn’t maintaining the distance he needed in the friendships he developed here. Why did he have to agree to a dance?

  “So, are you from Silver Falls originally?” he asked, watching that veil of sadness drape over her eyes again.

  “Originally, I’m from Indiana,” she stated, “But this town is starting to grow on me. Maybe I’ll hang around for a while. For the most part, people leave me alone.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  Those deep brown eyes drilled into him again. She responded with a quick nod.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said.

  “I noticed,” she replied with a subtle grin.

  There was something about Brooksie that made him feel “cool”. Maybe it was that “scram” attitude that she portrayed, or perhaps it was that permanent sadness in her features. Those melancholy eyes could be easily misinterpreted as a cool, yet mysterious nonchalance. And those eyes spoke of a coolness that was virally contagious.

  Even now, he was feeling like nothing else in the world mattered – not his job, his house, or his parents dancing just a few feet away. He felt like jumping in a car and driving 2400 miles without any cares in the world. How did people do that?

  “Let’s blow this joint,” he said, surprising himself with his cool choice of words.

  She nodded as though he took the words right out of her mouth. Perhaps he did, because he had no idea where they came from.

  * * * *

  There was nothing quite like walking peacefully through an amusement park at night with no plans whatsoever. All around them, plans were being made to stay, to go, to buy this, to play that, to ride this, or simply to steal a kiss while no one was watching. They had just witnessed a stolen kiss behind the cotton candy stand.

  Directly in front of them, some parents were telling their children that it was time to go. The children were planning to ride some more while the parents were planning to go to bed. The father, after all, had to go to work in the morning – or so he stated.

  Edward and Brooksie politely bypassed the whining family and continued down the midway. The world around them continued on as though Brooksie and Edward didn’t exist at all.

  The midway lights did their best to disrupt the darkness, but nightfall wasn’t giving up without a fight. The shelter that housed the bumper cars was beaming like a red and yellow monument honoring Thomas Edison. The fun house glowed beneath the eerie light of a hundred blue and purple bulbs. The Maniacal Mixer was a Fourth of July display in itself with its explosion of red, white, and blue lights flickering wildly in the distance.

  All the while, Edward and Brooksie progressed as spectators of the shimmering evening display. For nearly ten minutes, not a word had been spoken by either of them. It was finally a pink elephant that broke the silence – or at least created a diversion.

  Edward reached out and took Brooksie’s hand as he nodded his head toward the large stack of plush pink elephants. They were piled next to a booth with a sign proclaiming “Giant Prizes for just Three Balls in the Basket!!” Brooksie shook her head, but not before an attractive young lady stepped out from behind the hideous stack of pachyderms with three softballs in her hand.

  “I can do this one, Brooksie,” Edward said, rushing over to the grinning blonde.

  Brooksie noticed an unusual taste of jealousy over blonde’s prolonged eye contact with Edward. The lady didn’t seem to understand discretion, nor did she even care that Edward was accompanied by another woman. What burned Brooksie was the fact that the flirting floozie had no idea they weren’t offic
ially together.

  Brooksie laced her arm through Edward’s as she glared at the blonde.

  “I want a pink elephant, my dearest Edward,” Brooksie said, knowing full well that she was totally out of character.

  * * * *

  As if it wasn’t enough to have the most attractive lady in 1928 holding his hand, he was now faced with a racing heart caused by her clinging to his arm. He turned to Brooksie and realized that he could probably steal a kiss in that moment and she probably wouldn’t even flinch. For a full two seconds, he actually considered it.

  It was the sound of Rich’s voice whispering in his ear that brought him quickly to his senses. For just a moment, he thought the voice was manifested in his own mind. Then Rich spoke again.

  “No attachment, my brother. Unless you’re sure, of course,” he whispered again.

  Eddie turned to his right and looked at the smiling man beside him.

  “Your brother?”Brooksie asked, peering past Eddie.

  Eddie’s mind was lagging a few steps behind. When it finally caught up, he nodded and stepped back.

  “Brooksie, meet Rich. Rich - Brooksie,” Eddie said.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Rich said, shaking her hand, “We’re, uh… cousins actually. I’ve gotta get going, though. I was just over at the bumper cars when I saw you two go by. I was shocked to see Eddie doing so… er, doing so well.”

  Brooksie glanced over at Eddie.

  “Doing so well?” she asked.

  “He was… well, he was a bit under the weather the last time I saw him. I’m really glad to see him up and about,” Rich said, patting Eddie on the back, “Eddie is a strong and smart man. He knows what it takes to move forward and what it takes to go back.”