by Dennis Foley
Later, Scotty came in the kitchen door with two well charred steaks. “Hey. Soup’s on.” Once inside, he was surprised to find a new Kitty.
Kitty had rested, changed clothes and put on some makeup. “Want a beer?”
“Sure.” He put the steaks on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for Kitty. “You look terrific.”
She sat, reached over and rubbed his arm. “Thank you, baby. I feel better. Funny what a shower and a nap can do. Even at my age,” she said, completely sidestepping her medical condition.
“The pills help?”
“You know, they do a bit. But I hate those big ones. They’re hard for me to swallow.”
“How ’bout if I cut them in half for you. Will you be sure to take them then?”
“I promise.”
They talked, laughed and got caught up on lost time. He tried to find the right time to bring the subject up, but it never came so he just blurted it out. “About you working —”
Kitty raised her palm to him. “I know what you’re going to say, but I’m okay. I can work. I just need to not work so much and to rest when I’m not working.”
“And take your medication.”
“I know, I know. I promise. I’ll take the pills. But I’ll starve if I don’t work. Worse yet, I’ll go plum crazy if I just hang around here all day. Especially with you gone.”
“I’m getting parachute pay now and as soon as I get to Vietnam I’ll be getting combat pay too. I’ll be able to send you more money then.”
Kitty reached over and caressed his cheek. “Baby, I don’t want your money. I can take care of myself if I don’t go crazy spending my money.”
He didn’t want an argument and sought the middle ground. “I’ll make you a deal. Let me help you and then you won’t have to work full-time —”
“But I —”
He interrupted her before she got on a roll. “No. You need to scale back the work. You can’t work less and pay the bills too. I can’t send much, but I can send enough to let you have enough free time to get some rest. “But here’s the promise I want from you: No more late nights. No more bars and you’ve got to start sleeping like regular folks, get some sun and some fresh air—and take your pills.”
Kitty raised both hands in the air. “Okay. Okay. I surrender. I’ll try. I promise.”
“I’m serious. No more Murphy’s bar. It’s got to be a day job if you’re going to work at all. You’re not a vampire. You know you can work while the sun’s up?”
Kitty laughed. “Honey, just having you home is helping me feel better.” She jabbed her fork toward his beer bottle. “You want another?”
“No. I’ve got things to do and then I’m going to meet Eileen later for coffee.”
“Eileen! Ain’t she ’bout the most precious thing you ever met?”
“Between you and me, she was my secret love in high school.”
Kitty looked puzzled. “And she wasn’t interested in you?”
“Mom, she wasn’t interested in anyone at Palms High. She had a boyfriend or something. I even heard she was engaged. But, no matter what, she wasn’t interested in me.”
“All I can tell you is she’s been a blessing. Doctor Gordon knows her momma and knew she was looking for some part-time work. So he put us together. Wasn’t ’til after I met her that I found out you two went to school together. Didn’t I tell you about her in my letters?”
She hadn’t mentioned it was Eileen, but Scotty couldn’t see any point in saying so. “Sure, I just forgot. Anyway, she’s another thing you need extra money for. So don’t argue with me.”
Kitty smiled. “Okay. I’d forgotten how much trouble it is having a man around the house.”
“There’s another thing you ought to be working on.”
Kitty wasn’t following. “What?”
“You’ve been single too long.”
Kitty started to laugh, then started to cough. She raised her hands as if to signal him to wait for her to catch her breath. Tears of laughter spilled from her eyes while she struggled.
She finally got the cough under control. “Enough! I promise. I’ll take the pills. I’ll get some rest. I’ll quit working at Murphy’s. But I’m drawin’ the line at getting married again.”
They both laughed and she added, “Now you get finished with your dinner and go see that cute little girl. You’re the one who’s been single too long.”
Chapter 12
BETWEEN THE NEAR-SMOTHERING HUMIDITY of Belton, Florida and spending a few hours tinkering with Kitty’s car Scotty needed another shower. He tried to search for some options and came up short. He was happy to be able to get the car running again, but it was only a matter of time before it would need to be replaced. He stepped out of the shower and rechecked his fingernails for any remaining grease from the car.
Finding no grease, he wiped the steam from the mirror, leaned on the sink and examined his image. He really didn’t see what he was looking at. His head was filling up with a list of things. Things needed to happen before he left and while he was gone. And he’d have to be the one to do them. Kitty’s car, her care, things around the house still needing attention doing all banged around in his head.
And he was bothered he hadn’t been completely truthful with Kitty about money. After she was diagnosed, while he was still at Fort Benning, he’d officially declared her his dependent. It would entitle her to a small allotment from his Army pay each month and he could make survivor benefits available to her in case the worst happened to him in Vietnam.
He would have to think of a way to explain to her why the monthly checks would be from the government and not from him personally. He just didn’t want her to think she was depending on him. But he had no choice. It was just the bureaucracy and paperwork.
He knew he wasn’t going to have to explain the survivor’s benefits if he was killed. The Army would send someone to tell her. By then there’d be no one for her to argue with.
He shook his head. Eileen. He forced the Kitty concerns out of his mind while he lathered up by shifting gears to Eileen. He found the change in focus was matched by an immediate shift in mood. He liked the new feeling stirring inside when he thought of her. It was different. He’d dated girls in high school but never for any length of time.
There wasn’t an old love or a steady in his past. And he realized how long it had been since he’d been around a woman he could be excited about.
The streets of Belton were almost empty as the hour neared eleven. But tradition still held sway. It was Saturday night and here and there Scotty passed a carload of teenagers still out cruising. He remembered when he and Malcolm used to do the same. When Malcolm could talk his father into letting him drive the family car. His dad’s Chevy station wagon somehow took the cool out of cruising Belton, but it was better than no car at all. And Scotty could never get Kitty’s car since she needed it to work nights.
He smiled as he remembered how hard it was to scrape up the money they needed to put gas in the car and still hang out with friends. They would cruise through the Dairy Queen, park on the apron of the lot and then jump into cars with friends camped out in the parking slots reserved for customers ordering food delivered by the car hops. They would sit for hours talking, laughing and watching the girls come and go.
Downtown Belton was the place to be on any Saturday night and it hadn’t changed much since he’d left.
Scotty pulled into the parking lot in front of Ronnie’s Restaurant as several cars were leaving. A car pulled out in front of him opening up a spot right in front of the long row of restaurant windows.
The radio on, he found himself singing Mr. Lonely along with Bobby Vinton but dropped out when his range couldn’t keep up with Vinton’s. As he parked and turned off the engine the radio went dead.
Scotty checked his watch to make sure he hadn’t arrived too early. It was two minutes to eleven. Still, he decided to wait a few more minutes before going inside. He clicked on the ignition to listen
to the radio again even though he knew he was flirting with danger, considering the battery troubles he’d overcome earlier in the day.
He spun the knob lit by the yellow light on the dial searching for more music and found mostly news on the hour. Someone named Martin Luther King was getting the Nobel Peace Prize, LBJ had been elected and Scotty paused long enough to listen to an announcement attributed to Secretary of Defense McNamara—stating the U.S. had no plans to send combat troops to Vietnam. Scotty finally found what he was looking for—The Supremes. He tried to pick the song up with Diana Ross. “…come see about me.”
He looked through the windshield into the restaurant and could see the room was nearly empty. A couple of tables had diners lingering over coffee. At one a woman was searching the bottom of her purse for exact change to put on the small tray holding her check. She placed the money on the tray one coin at a time.
He saw Eileen come through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen with a coffee pot in her hand. Scotty felt another tingle as he watched her cross the room and top off a customer’s coffee. The diner smiled and his lips moved as he thanked her and she smiled back.
Scotty suddenly realized what a great smile she had and how he couldn’t remember ever really seeing beyond her polite smile. This one was friendlier and much more giving.
He found himself turning off the ignition again to sit in silence and watch Eileen. She made several trips across the room clearing plates, dropping off checks and saying good night to customers as they left the restaurant.
It was hard for him to imagine the Eileen Carter from school was the same Eileen Carter in his kitchen earlier and on the other side of the large plate glass windows at Ronnie’s.
With the car door only half open, Scotty stopped, suddenly overwhelmed with doubts. His breath? He looked down at his jeans and shoes. Was he overdressed? Was it too early? What the hell was going on? After all, he was only going to have coffee with her or go get something to eat. It wasn’t like he was going to try to get her interested in him romantically. She already had some guy, somewhere.
He sat back in the seat for a moment to calm himself, feeling a little silly. Hell, he’d done far more frightening things recently than have coffee with a pretty girl. What was it about Eileen that put him off his game? His first parachute jump, the Florida swamps, demolitions training—none of the things he’d done since leaving Belton had made him as anxious as he felt then. He raised his chin, took another deliberate breath and let it out slowly.
Scotty looked back through the window and she was smiling at a couple settling their bill and thanking her. He found himself wiping his palms on his trousers and craving a cigarette after six months without one. “You can do this, Hayes,” he whispered, That done, he threw the car door open wide as if breaking from a huddle and stepped out in the muggy Florida night. Without thinking of it, his fingers went to his gig line, forgetting he was in civilian clothes and the alignment of his shirt, fly and belt buckle weren’t going to be scrutinized by anyone. Somewhere Sergeant Asa Russell was smiling.
“Hi, Scotty.” Her face seemed to brighten as she looked up from a table, seeing him walk through the door. “You did make it after all.”
“Sure. I told you I’d be here. I’m not too early, am I? ’Cause if I am, I can wait for you outside or something.”
In what seemed to be a kind of autopilot, Eileen moved effortlessly arranging new place settings at a table she’d been clearing without taking her eyes off of Scotty. Eventually ending up on his side of the table. “Nope. Look around.” She motioned toward the large dining room behind her. “It’s my very favorite time of the day—closing time.”
Only two tables were still occupied—one by a young couple deeply involved in a conversation over coffee, another by an old man hidden behind a newspaper. Scotty hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the doorway. “I don’t want to be in the way. Really, if you want me to wait outside till you’re finished —”
She flagged him with the napkin in her other hand. “No. Uh uh. Now go on over and take a stool at the counter. I’ll be finished here in a few minutes.”
He realized he’d been passing his car keys from one hand to another. He dropped them into his pocket and pointed toward the counter. “Okay. I will. I’ll wait. I’ll be over at the counter.”
Eileen smiled and reassured him. “I won’t be long. I promise.” She turned straightened out the fresh silverware and took her coffee pot to the two occupied tables to offer the remaining diners their final warm ups.
She was a different Eileen, cheerful and almost chatty with the customers as she playfully announced it was last call. Not the quiet buttoned up Eileen from history class. He liked this Eileen even better than he ever had liked the Eileen at Palms High.
Approaching the counter, Scotty discovered two options: his back to the room or a stool which would allow him to see most of the room from the short leg as it turned to butt into the wall near the large kitchen doors. He opted for the spot at the counter giving him the best view of Eileen.
He sat down and as quickly as he did Eileen had finished the loop at the other tables and appeared on the other side of the counter with the pot in her hand. She raised it and asked, “Want some?”
Scotty righted an upside down cup, nailed it back into its saucer and pushed it toward her. “Sure. This is getting to be a routine—you, me and coffee.”
“If you’d rather have something else…”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean… Coffee’s fine. I was just thinking about you making coffee for me this afternoon —”
“Okay, but if you want something, promise you’ll let me know. I already turned on the closed sign outside, but I can still get you a piece of pie or some of our chocolate cake. You just speak up, ya’ hear?”
“No.” He picked up the filled cup. “This will be enough for me. Don’t worry about me.”
“Good night, Eileen,” the old man with the paper tucked under his arm put on a small brimmed straw hat with a wide and colorful band as he threw his forearm into the door to leave.
Over her shoulder she smiled, “G’night, Mister Joyce. Y’all come back and see us, now.” As she turned back to Scotty to say something he nodded at the couple behind her. The couple who had been at the very last table.
“Thank you, Miss,” the man said as he opened the door to allow the woman with him to pass through.
Eileen followed the two to the door, said goodnight and locked the door behind them. She turned back to Scotty, untied her apron, balled it up, pitched it on the end of the counter and smiled. “Okay, I’m off now. Let’s get out of here.”
Holding the door, Scotty waited for Eileen to get into the car. He found his fingers touching her lightly at the small of her back, helping her into the car. And he was suddenly aware the air she moved as she passed so close to him getting in the car took on a hint of her perfume.
She smiled and kidded him. “What a gentleman you are, Scott Hayes.”
He rounded the rear of the car, got in, started the aging Studebaker and sighed. “Whew! That’s three times in a row that it’s started. Look’s like my luck’s holding.”
Scotty eased the car through the curb’s gutter separating the parking lot from the street to avoid bottoming out the worn shocks on the car. He stopped long enough to look both ways on Belton’s main street, undecided. “What do you think? You in the mood for dinner? Or is there something else you’d rather do. I mean, you must be tired after such a long day.”
Eileen laughed. “What if I was hungry? We just closed the last restaurant where you can get a real meal in this town, this time a night.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, want a beer? There’s always a bar open.”
“No. I know I don’t want a drink,” she said. “But if you want one…”
“Nope. I’m good —”
Eileen looked up and down the same boulevard and pointed to lights on a corner two blocks away. “Well, it’s not very fancy, but the old st
andby, the Dairy Queen, is still open.”
He laughed. “The Dairy Queen? It’s been a long time. Sure. As long as you don’t want to cruise it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, Dairy Queen it is,” Scotty said turning down the four-lane roadway.
As he drove the short distance to the fast food spot he was again aware of her presence—only inches from him. He felt obligated to fill the quiet between them. “You have a preference?”
“‘A preference?’”
“Outside or in? You want to go inside at sit at the counter or park in a stall for curb service?” he asked.
“Either way’s good. Let’s park outside. I haven’t done that since high school.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.” Scotty swung into the restaurant lot and then into an empty stall in one fluid motion. He stopped, killed the engine, pulled back on the hand brake, flopped his wrists on top of the steering wheel and looked over at Eileen for her approval. “How’s this spot?”
She clapped her hands in approval. “Perfect.”
Scotty felt an awkward again. Unsure of what to say next, he leaned forward, peered out under the Florida eye-shade bolted onto the Studebaker’s split windshield. He scanned the huge menu painted on a sign over the island which served as the curb stop for all those eating in their cars. “What’s it going to be?”
“My line,” she laughed.
“What?”
“You are using my line.”
He loved her laugh. “Oh, sure.”
She leaned forward and again he saw the profile he so fondly remembered from high school. “I’ve been a prisoner of the Army for so long I’d give my next pay check for a plain old greasy all-American cheeseburger, fries and a Coke.”
“Well, you’re one lucky guy,” she said, “because greasy’s still their specialty here.”
“Good. In that case I might even ask for extra grease.”
Eileen laughed again and waved her hand in a playful dismissal for him to stop so she could order. “Enough. We keep this up and this place will be closed, before we can even eat. Remember you’re in Belton.”
