Dreams of Paradise

by R. B. Conroy

  “Your buddy looks pretty drunk!” one of them shouted.

  Tubs gave them a big, toothy grin, “Yea, he’s been barfin’ for the last twenty minutes. If I let go of him, he’ll fall flat on his face.” After pausing briefly to further examine the scene, the two guys looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and continued toward the club.

  “I’ll need $2,500 cash by the 30th of this month.” Tubs released the grip on Willie’s shirt.

  “I don’t have that kind of money and you know it.” Willie sighed, his chin fell against his damp chest.

  “I hear your mom’s dating some rich guy in The Villages. Maybe he can loan you the money. I really don’t give a damn where you get it, slime ball, just have it to me by the thirtieth or this picture goes to the police with your ugly face looking right in the camera.”

  * * *

  The car felt warm on Willie’s back. He watched Tubs walk away and hop on his Harley, raise up and kick it to a start. A cool evening breeze flowed over Willie’s damp face. His back and head were still throbbing from Tubs’ beating. He felt weak and very nauseated. He glanced at the cars whizzing past on the nearby street, a police siren blared in the background. He watched as Tubs’ black Harley darted past the back of the building and blended in with the traffic.

  Suddenly, his stomach pushed up to his throat. He quickly spun around and laid his hands against his car. With his head throbbing and arms shaking, he stared at the dark surface below. The nausea got worse and his body started to convulse. The remnants of the day blasted from his hot mouth and scattered on the ground below him. His body convulsed over and over again, he gasped for breath between explosions. His legs started to give out beneath him. He was frightened that he might pass out and fall to the ground. With his arms shaking violently and his head throbbing, the convulsion finally stopped, the heaves went dry and then stopped.

  Willie fell on his elbows against the car and then rolled slowly over with his back against the passenger side door. He pushed himself away from the door and staggered around the car to the driver’s side door. He paused with his head hanging and took the car keys from his pocket. He opened the door and dropped into the car, his bottom fell against the warm cloth seat.

  “Hell yes, Tubs, twenty-five hundred. No problem,” he mumbled. He punched around for the keyhole. Finally locating it, he turned the key and the old car groaned to a start. His head was starting to clear some, but he was still pretty stoned and very sore. He hoped that he could get home without running into someone or something. He grabbed his sunglasses off the overhead visor and slid them on. Then, with his hands still shaking, he put the car in gear and backed very slowly out of the parking space to begin the perilous journey home.

  Chapter 13

  Joe felt Susan’s ample breast press a little harder against his back, her hands pulled tighter on his stomach. Somewhat unnerved by the aggressive snuggling, Joe didn’t discourage her. “Are you enjoying the ride?” he shouted over the steady moan of the Cushman engine.

  “Oh yes, Joe, I’m loving it!”

  Joe could feel her warm breath on his ear--it felt good. Joe was glad that the ride was just about over before he became a little too excited. He surveyed the street ahead. The tall palm trees bordering the street swayed in the steady breeze as he approached his neighborhood. The big yellow-orange morning sun was just starting to peep its head over the distant horizon casting a yellow hue over the road ahead. Joe raised his hand to shade his eyes from the bright sun.

  With a few minutes left in the ride and Susan’s grip tightening, Joe took the opportunity to reflect on their growing relationship. On the face of it, it seemed implausible to him that the two of them were together--they were from such vastly different worlds. She lived in a mobile home park in one of the poorest communities in Florida, while Joe lived in a million dollar home in an upscale retirement community. She had spent all her adult life scratching out a living in any way she could, while Joe had enjoyed a life of privilege.

  With such differences in their backgrounds, one would think that Susan would have a difficult time fitting into the cultured lifestyle of Joe’s world. Yet, in spite of her meager past, Susan had a real sense of sophistication about her. A natural gift, Joe surmised, since it certainly wasn’t the result of her life experiences. Joe was truly amazed at how easily she had fit in with his friends at The Villages, making small talk and giggling with the ladies while charming the daylights out of his male friends. One would think, observing Susan in Joe’s domain, that she too had graduated from a fine university and was a professional person of some accomplishment. The only difference Joe had observed between Susan and his other female friends was her more aggressive behavior toward him. She came on much stronger to Joe than the more reserved women of wealth he associated with in his circles. Susan’s interactions didn’t seem forced or over the top--they seemed very natural. Probably the result of her more blue-collar life experiences, Joe thought, where relationships are more sexual and talk of such things is more open and natural. It unnerved him at times, but in the main, he accepted it and enjoyed it.

  The tiny branch from a bordering pin oak crunched under the narrow tire of Joe’s speedy scooter. Now just a short distance from his driveway, Joe thought of Adele. Adele was not at all like Susan. A good and kind person, she didn’t show her affection toward Joe as easily as Susan did. Oh, she had a wonderful smile and was always polite, but Adele would never greet a male friend of Joe’s with a kiss and a hug as Susan did--it just wasn’t her nature. But Adele was still part of him, he could feel her presence around him almost daily.

  Joe thought back to Adele’s parting words to him on that powerful evening at the end of her life. It was early evening after a particularly difficult day for her. Joe had been by her side the entire day and was sitting next to her bed reading a crumpled copy of Reader’s Digest. Engrossed in an article, he felt her hand grab hold of his free hand and pull it gently to her breast. In terrible pain, she smiled at him as best she could and looked him directly in the eye. Her dark sunken eyes seemed to brighten a little when she spoke. She spoke quietly, but assuredly, and he was shocked by what she had to say.

  She made him promise that after his grieving time was over, that he would not hesitate to find comfort and contentment in the arms of another woman. With tears welling in his eyes, and his heart breaking, Joe promised his courageous wife of forty-eight years that he would try to honor her requests, but that he doubted if he could ever find anyone as wonderful as her. She squeezed his hand a little tighter and with tears flowing unashamedly down her face, she told him just how much she loved him and how much their life together had meant to her. She fell asleep a few minutes later with Joe’s head resting firmly on her chest, never to awaken again.

  The heady scent of the gardenias that bordered Joe’s driveway signaled the end of the ride and drew him out of his powerful reminiscences of Adele. Fighting off tears, he cruised into the garage and pulled to a stop in his usual parking spot beneath the shadow of his big tool box.

  “Thank you, Joe, that was so much fun!” A beaming Susan lifted off her helmet and fluffed up the back of her hair. She gave Joe one last squeeze and hopped off the back of the scooter. Sensing that Joe was upset about something, she laid her hand on his forearm and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Joe slid off the warm seat, knocking the kick stand down as he was getting off. He removed his helmet and set it on the seat. He paused and looked at Susan, “Yes, I sure am,” he said briskly. “I was just thinking about something.”

  Always very perceptive, Susan’s eyes softened, “She must have been a wonderful woman.”

  Joe glanced at Susan, he seemed genuinely taken aback by her response. “Among your other attributes, I’m finding now that you are an amazingly insightful person, Susan. Yes, I was thinking of Adele. Please forgive me, but forty-eight years is a long time.”

  Susan slid her hand off his forearm, her smile faded. “Are we moving too fast, Joe
? I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

  Joe turned toward Susan and laid his hands on her shoulders, “No, you most certainly are not making me uncomfortable. Maybe we should have a little talk, just to clear the air a little bit. Shall we?” He swept his hand toward the door to the house. “I made a pot of Starbuck’s finest just before we left on our ride. How about a cup?”

  “Why certainly, our tee time isn’t for about an hour. Sounds good.”

  Joe stripped the gloves off his hands and tossed them on his workbench. Then, with Susan leading the way, the two of them strolled briskly toward the house.

  Chapter 14

  Once inside Joe’s house, Susan walked through the kitchen to the nook and nestled into one of the small chairs next to the bay window. Joe arrived a short time later with two steaming cups of coffee in hand. He set a cup in front of Susan and then slid into the seat across from her.

  “Thank you for coming in.”

  Susan lifted her chin and smiled. “I love sitting here in the nook. There is such a pretty view of the golf course from here.”

  “There’s cream and sweetener on the table.” Joe nodded toward the square bowl next to a fresh bouquet of flowers.

  “No thank you, I like my coffee black, remember?” She flicked her brow playfully and grinned at the doctor.

  The reserved Joe, blushed slightly and replied, “Oh, why certainly I do. Black, yes you always drink your coffee black.” An apologetic smile flashed across his face.

  “You always use one packet of Splenda.”

  Joe smiled sheepishly. He picked a packet of Splenda from the bowl, ripped the corner off and dumped it in his coffee, lifted a spoon and stirred it vigorously before taking a sip. “Hmmm….that’s good.” He savored the familiar taste of the warm coffee for a moment and then spoke, “I’m glad we have a few minutes. Your comments in the garage got me thinking a little bit.”

  Susan smiled and nodded ever so slightly, nervously adjusting the bracelet on her wrist.

  “First of all, let me say, in my opinion, we are not moving too fast--not in the least. I truly enjoy our time together and I hope you do too.” He looked at Susan with expectant eyes.

  “Very much so,” she replied.

  “I’m so glad to hear that, Susan, and I don’t want you to worry about those infrequent times when I become a little preoccupied. I hope you understand, Susan. One can’t be with someone nearly fifty years and not think about them occasionally.” He looked with anticipation at Susan.

  “I understand but…,” Susan paused briefly.

  Joe sat quietly, waiting anxiously for her to continue.

  She leaned forward, wrapping her hands firmly around the warm cup of coffee, “I…uh I just don’t want to feel that somehow I’m causing you to always be analyzing everything, weighing your past against our present and so forth.”

  Joe scooted his chair closer to Susan’s. He laid his hand gently on her arm. “When you came to work at the real estate office some weeks ago, I never dreamed we would be here in my house sharing a cup of coffee and preparing for a long day together. The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Me either.”

  “It happened because I wanted it to happen--I wanted to see more of you.”

  Susan smiled warmly. “It makes me feel good to hear that, Joe, and forgive me for being a little bit defensive. I do understand, it’s only natural for you to think of Adele from time to time.”

  “I miss Adele very much, but I want you to know, Susan, I’m happier right now than I’ve been for a long, long time.”

  Susan looked away and watched the beautiful red roses brushing gently against the bay window in the soft morning breeze. She turned away from the lovely scene and looked back at Joe. “So am I, Joe; I’m happy also--so very, very, happy.”

  “Wonderful! Then let’s just enjoy our time together and take things a day at a time. What do you say?”

  “One day at a time sounds good to me.” Then to Joe’s surprise, Susan giggled and poked him in the arm. “But it wasn’t all your doing at the real estate office. I kind of encouraged things a little bit myself.”

  Joe laughed out loud, “You mean that peck on the cheek at the front door and those sexy clothes and that wonderful perfume? “

  Susan blushed.

  “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I loved it.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course, it was invigorating.”

  Susan giggled,” Well…uh I hope I wasn’t too forward.”

  “Not at all, my dear, not at all.” Joe surveyed Susan’s face. “You were just right that day, just right.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure and that’s what I love about you.”

  “What?”

  Joe scooted even closer and put his arm around her shoulder, “I love your honesty. I love your realness.”

  “Why, thank you, Joe,” Susan replied, her eyes dancing with joy. “Thank you for accepting me into your life.”

  “No, Susan, thank you.” Joe stood and glanced at his watch. “We best be going. We have a big day ahead of us with a golf game this afternoon and dinner with your son this evening. Time is running short.” He gestured toward the door to the garage. “Shall we?”

  “Willie is so looking forward to meeting you.”

  “And I’m so looking forward to meeting him. It should be a very nice evening.”

  Susan took a final sip of coffee and pushed her chair back. She stood and slipped her hand under Joe’s protruding arm. The chime from Joe’s ancient grandfather clock echoed through the house as the unlikely couple strolled excitedly through the backdoor toward another busy day.

  Chapter 15

  Willie gently massaged his lower back. He was still sore from the roughing up administered by Tubs the day before. He reached over and grabbed a small plastic comb off the top of the sink and ran it through his long black hair, grimacing in pain with each stroke. In dire need of a haircut, he didn’t have the money to get one right now. He opened the door to the medicine cabinet and lifted a rusty Bic razor off the shelf. He swung the door shut and carefully trimmed the bottom edge of his fuzzy side burns. He shook his head in disgust, upset by the image in the mirror. His ongoing battle with insomnia had caused dark, ugly circles to form around his eyes, and the combination of systematic drug abuse and no outdoor exercise had given him a pale blotchy complexion. I look like shit! he thought.

  Sore and still reeling emotionally from the violent episode with Tubs, he hoped to make a good impression on his mom’s doctor friend tonight at dinner. He needed $2,500 in the worst way. A survivor, if nothing else, Willie hoped the doctor could help him out of this financial mess.

  Willie’s plan was to try and make cozy with the doctor tonight. Cozy enough that he could ask the doctor to loan him $2,500, but he had to move fast. He only had until the end of the month to get the money. He and the doc would have to become good buddies right away. Even somebody as clueless and unsophisticated as Willie understood that most doctors make a whole lot of money--way more than anyone else he knew in his low-end life.

  Surprisingly creative when his own well-being was on the line, Willie had thought his plan through very carefully. After securing a loan from the good doctor, he would, of course, pay off his debt to Tubs to avoid any future beatings. Then he would make a couple of modest payments to the doctor right away to placate him for a while. He would then make fewer and fewer payments with more time in between payments. Assuming the doctor would be impressed by Willie’s prompt payments, he figured the doctor would eventually lose interest in the situation and it would be much less of an issue when Willie quit making his payments altogether. It was the same system that the devious Willie had used on his mother over and over again. Not needing the good doctor anymore, he would then gradually fade out of the doctor’s life--leaving his mom holding the bag. His mom would be mad at him for a while, but she would even
tually forgive him--she always did.

  Willie slid the faded black golf shirt off the towel rack and slipped it over his shoulders. The shirt was kind of old and faded, but he had selected this shirt for a reason. He tucked the shirttail into his tattered jeans and pulled the belt tight on his waist. He wanted to look financially stressed tonight. It might help him elicit feelings of sympathy from the doctor. His mom had told him that Dr. Stone was a compassionate and generous man. Willie would play on that compassion to help him get what he wanted. He cracked a wicked half smile. He amazed himself at times on how conniving and devious he could be. He wished his antisocial behavior bothered him more, but it really didn’t. “You’re a sociopath!” a friend told him late one night after sharing several lines of coke with Willie in the back of a beat-up van in Tavares. Not knowing the meaning of the word sociopath, a curious Willie went on line the next morning and found the definition, “an individual without conscience, with little regard or feeling for others.” Willie had to begrudgingly agree that his verbose friend was right on the money--he was indeed a sociopath.

  Chapter 16

  “My, you look gorgeous tonight, Susan,”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Joe held her hand as she settled into the bucket seat in his new Mercedes Roadster. The yellow and white cotton dress fell across her lap highlighting her shapely legs. She reached down and hiked the skirt up just a few inches above her knees and smiled flirtatiously at Joe.

  Holding the car door open, Joe gawked at the sensuous sight in front of him. “And, let me once again compliment you on your fine golf game today. That seven iron you hit on the ninth was a magical shot. You were most impressive on the links today, Susan.”

  “You’re so sweet, Joe, but we better get going, I told Willie we would meet him at the restaurant at 6:30 sharp and it’s a little after six already.”